Muffin Tops & The Archive
by renee.lyn
Summary: Bebe Stevens has a nasty muffin top. Wendy Testaburger has a crush on her boyfriend's best friend. Kenny McCormick is the ringleader of South Park's most legendary spank bank. No one ever said high school was easy. Rated M for language and adult content. Bebe/A lot of people and Wendy/Kyle.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter One**

"I don't know, Wendy, this left tit is definitely a cup size bigger than my right," Bebe said, cupping her boob like the head of an infant in her hand, before dropping it and letting it bounce like a vat of lard, "This nipple is like nickel sized and the other one is quarter size. Go get my wallet so I can check."

Wendy looked up from their science project on the floor, giving her a look. "I don't know why we always have to have this conversation. You take your top off every time you come over, and I have never noticed the asymmetrical properties of your breasts." The squeak of her marker against the poster board filled the silence as Bebe turned to look her best friend dead in the eye, hands squeezing her boobs tight together so both of her nipples looked like peas in a pod.

"Wendy." Her voice was low. "A blind man could see how lopsided they are. A dolphin could _hear_ how lopsided they are with echolocation. And more importantly, a cute boy is going to _feel_ how lopsided they are. This is a tragedy, okay? My endowments are a Dr. Seuss book. It's little boob, big boob, soft boob, firm boob all over these babies."

"Bebe, I feel like this is a discussion you should be having with your doctor, or maybe your mom, instead of me." Wendy capped her Mr. Sketch chocolate scented marker, whipping out a cherry one to finish drawing in the hydrogen atoms. "And I'm pretty sure that if a boy were to feel them, they would be thinking about much more than how even your chest is."

Sighing, the blonde fished her bra out to wear like an oversized bracelet on her wrist from underneath a pink throw pillow. "Are you sure? 'Cause at that lame party we went to last week, Craig accidentally brushed against them with his back and I'm pretty sure he noticed. It was this crazy look in his eye, that's how I could tell."

Wendy didn't answer, and instead turned to her chemistry textbook to research the properties of hydrogen. And so Bebe stood, her chest bared to the world, and made a solemn decision.

"Wendy, you need to ask Stan for me."

She stared at her topless friend and her mouth fell open. "I'm not showing _my_ boyfriend _your_ boobs, Bebe. I can't believe you would ask me to do something like that." She shook her head, turning back to their science project, currently worth fifty percent of their semester grade.

"Fine," Bebe groaned, "I'll just text a picture of my boobs to the guys and ask one of them."

Wendy calmed herself down with a single collective breath and capped her marker. "Please don't. Jesus fucking _Christ_ , Bebe, do you want your supposedly uneven breasts plastered across the social mediaverse of South Park?"

She paused thoughtfully, rubbing her chin. "Well. If they're not lopsided like you're telling me, then I'll get like twenty more likes on my Instagram pics. It'll work out in my favor in the end." When she shrugged, her boobs jiggled.

Wendy lifted herself up from laying belly-down on the floor, brushing off her lavender sweater. "I am telling you this as your best friend. You _cannot_ send out a picture of your _naked, underage_ body to a bunch of pubescent boys. You could get suspended from school. Bebe, you could even get arrested for child pornography."

She rolled her eyes before resuming her favorite spot in front of Wendy's sticker plastered mirror. "Should it be a mirror selfie or will I look like white trash?"

Wendy pinched the bridge of her nose and groaned. "You're already wearing a pair of Victoria's Secret leopard print yoga pants that say 'wild' on the ass."

Bebe grinned. "Good point. There's no saving me. I've gone off the deep end in regards to looking like a slut, haven't I?" She pulled her phone out of the back of her thong and jutted her hip out, throwing her frizzy hair over her shoulder. "They just look like sad, soggy pears. Remember when I had the nicest tits in school?"

Wendy referred to her open textbook, looking back and forth from her iMessage conversation with Kyle to the section on atomic mass. "They're just saggy because they're big."

She worked a few angles as she took her pictures. "Yeah, but it's only because I'm so fat. I'm lucky all my weight is in my ass and my boobs." Cupping one of her butt cheeks, she puckered her lips and leaned forward for the camera.

Her friend rolled her eyes. Their project wasn't even half way done and it was already nine at night. Tomorrow, Wendy was going on a two day field trip with her science club and wouldn't be able to do their project over the weekend. She'd never let Bebe touch such a big grade with a ten foot pole. Wendy wished Bebe would at least attempt to help with the project so they could finish before midnight.

Bebe scrolled through her contacts, pausing every time she found a potential prospector for her nudes. "Maybe I should just send it to Kyle. He'd tell me if they were lopsided. Isn't it against the whole Jew code to lie?" She was too absorbed in her hasty, emoji overflowing explanation to the eldest Broflovksi son to notice that Wendy had instantly stiffened at the sound of his name.

"Oh. Okay. Go ahead. I don't care. Just, uh, let me know what he says." She tried to keep the anxiety out of her voice but Bebe knew her too well.

She threw on her hot pink bra, complete with zebra stripe ribbons, and posed like a pinup on Wendy's bedspread. "I doubt he'll even answer. He's so uninterested in girls I wonder if he's okay in the head." She started tapping away on her phone as Wendy quickly answered a text from the topic of conversation and pretended like she didn't.

The dark haired girl gave an uncertain shrug. "I don't know…I think he's okay in the head." She rolled her scented markers across the poster board, her hands suddenly sweaty. "Maybe he's just a little too focused on school to worry about annoying high school girls."

Bebe raised her eyebrows. "Really now? And are those his words or your words there?" She was all too quickly amused watching Wendy attempt to thinly veil her ruse.

"I don't know what you're talking about. Kyle and I are just friends."

"Well, I didn't say you were any more than that." Bebe crossed her arms over her chest and shook her head in disbelief. A mischievous smile was playing at her lips. "You've got a crush on Kyle, you minky little slut!"

The blood normally coursing healthily throughout Wendy's brain flooded her face. "No I don't! Shut _up,_ Bebe! I'm dating Stan. I like Stan. I _love_ Stan, a lot!" Even as she said the words, they sounded pathetic, as if she were trying to convince herself and not Bebe.

Thankfully, her best friend could've cared less about crushes on Jewish boys. The blonde rolled her eyes and turned back to her phone. The meek text, 'hey kyle r my boobs lopsided? lol let me know asap haha,' punctuated with tearful laughing emojis, looked a bit pathetic. Bebe stared at the image of her half-naked body posed in front of Wendy's mirror, its owner laying on the floor surrounded in the nuclear fallout of their science project. She blinked a few times, thumb hovering over the blue 'send' button. Maybe Wendy was right. Should she risk being expelled from school just because she was insecure about her body?

She remembered hearing from a guest speaker at school that when you're old and decrepit, you regret the things you didn't do rather than the things you did. The guest speaker may have been talking about things like auditioning for a school play or going to a job interview, though. Worst case scenario, Bebe thought, was Kyle telling her she did indeed have one boob saggier than the other. Best case scenario they were perfectly even and she maybe even got a dick pic out of their conversation. Gathering up her courage into a little ball in her stomach, she took a quick breath, sent the text, and as an afterthought asked God for forgiveness.

"I sent it." Her voice wasn't as solid as she wanted it to sound.

Wendy didn't even glance up. Her eyes were bored into the screen of her own cell phone, clenched in her milk-white fingers. Would Kyle tell Wendy that her best friend had just sent him a nude? Who would he answer first? Her fuzzy socks tapped at her carpet anxiously. Bebe's acrylic nails rapped along the surface of Wendy's nightstand. In the pits of both of their stomachs, anxiety began to eat away at the Oreos they had shared before they started on their chemistry project. Together, they waited on Kyle.

Bebe's phone was the first to 'ding' with a response. Wendy's heart fell.

"Ugh, it's not even Kyle." Bebe rolled her eyes, opening the text. "Clyde's trying to booty call me again."

The dark haired girl on the floor tried to swallow the growing lump in her throat. "He's such a douchebag," seemed like the appropriate, supportive thing to say to a best friend dealing with a sleazy ex.

"Can you believe he's trying to get with me now? When we were dating he couldn't even keep it up long enough to take my virginity. Like anything is going to change now that we're broken up."

This came as news to Wendy. "Wait, I thought you and Clyde did have sex. Didn't you? On homecoming night?"

Bebe gave a tight sigh. "I wanted to. First, we tried in his dad's ugly little Camry and then he couldn't get a boner. I was giving him a handjob for twenty minutes and it was like handling a soggy hot dog bun. So gross." Bebe was still sending a snarky reply to Clyde. "So we went back to his house. His parents were gone for the weekend so he lit all these candles in his parents' bedroom, right? So I'm laying on the bed, killing it in my homecoming dress, and he comes in from the bathroom. Then we were making out, and I'm actually kind of turned on at this point, if you can believe it. But then – get this – he tried to go down on me, and he could _not_ figure out how to do it. It felt like a microwaved slug trying to weasel into my vag. So I'm like, 'look, honey, let's switch. I'll go down on you.' And this guy still could not keep a stiffy long enough to stick it in me _once_. Needless to say that's why I dumped him three weeks later. What's the good in having a boyfriend who doesn't even find you hot enough to get a boner?"

Wendy paused. "Didn't he dump you because he caught you kissing Token under the bleachers?"

The blonde tightened her jaw. "It was a mutual break up. It doesn't matter."

They sat in silence once more, Wendy seriously pondering her life choices. If Bebe the school slut hadn't lost her virginity and _she_ had, what did that make her? Even she'd handed over her v-card shortly after turning seventeen. Granted, it lasted two and a half minutes and it happened in the bed of Stan's truck in the middle of the woods, but it still happened. Feeling significantly dirtier and more shameful than she had five minutes ago, Wendy kept on at their science project.

Bebe's phone dinged again. Hesitantly, she peeked at her phone screen, hoping it wasn't another booty call. Her jaw dropped in surprise. "It's Kyle! He answered!"

Her hands were shaking so hard she mistyped her passcode. Why was she even freaking out so much? It was one nude. She didn't even think Kyle was cute. It didn't matter what Kyle thought about her nudes. Bebe held out her hands in front of herself, watching them until they steadied. Once more, she tried to put in her passcode. She ground her teeth when she got in wrong again.

"Fuck this stupid phone!" Bebe shouted, smashing in another incorrect passcode.

Wendy was wringing her hands. Why hadn't Kyle texted her yet? Shouldn't he have sent her some kind of text like, 'hey, your best friend sent me a nude,' or something like that? She clenched her fists and felt the bite of her fingernails digging into her palms. The last text he sent was asking about their stupid field trip that weekend. All he had to do was send one pathetic text! She could feel fury starting to boil in her abdomen.

Bebe was telling herself to calm down in her mind to no avail. _Oh my God,_ she thought, _please just fucking stop. Just stop. Calm down. You have no reason to panic. Your heart is going a mile a minute. Why does this feel like that one horrible acid trip?_ Why was she panicking _so_ much? All she had to do was put in her passcode, four easy numbers – one, three, six, nine. It was so basic. How could she still be messing up? She pressed the one. She pressed the three. She pressed the six. She pressed the – Wendy jumped up, forcing Bebe to press the wrong number.

"Damn it, Wendy! You made me lock myself out of my phone for five minutes!"

Her face was pink. "Kyle texted me." Wendy's heart was aflutter in her chest.

Bebe stared at her with expectant, wide eyes. "And?"

"And what?"

The blonde groaned and punched one of Wendy's panda shaped pillows. "And what does it say, you dumb bitch?"

"Oh," Wendy mumbled, holding her phone too close to her face. "He asked if I was with you. He said, 'hey, this is kind of random but are you with Bebe right now?'"

Why did it matter? "You're in the background of the picture I sent him. Maybe that's why he's asking."

Wendy turned scarlet. "I'm _in_ it? I'm in your child pornography?" She stamped her fuzzy sock into the fuchsia carpet. "Bebe, that's so messed up!"

"Please," Bebe waved her away, rolling her eyes again, "Even if you weren't in it anyone could tell this is your room. It can't be mine, I mean _look._ There are books and frumpy clothes everywhere."

A low, frustrated growl sounded from the back of Wendy's throat. "Bebe. That makes me an accessory to your crime. I can't plead ignorance. Anyone could tell I knew you were right in front of me taking pictures of yourself!"

Bebe couldn't help herself. She let out a laugh. "Crime? It's one nude! Kyle isn't going to send it to anyone. He's too nice and good-guy-ish and boring." She met eyes with Wendy, looking suspiciously like a scheming cat. "In other words, he's perfect for you."

"How many times have I told you that I'm with Stan? He is my boyfriend, I like him as my boyfriend. And I definitely don't want to lose him as my boyfriend." She was starting to feel like a broken record.

"You can have a crush on Kyle and be with Stan at the same time, you know. Hell, you could even do some kinky shit with Kyle and still have your little football team captain boyfriend if you wanted. But I know you don't have it in you."

Wendy scoffed in disbelief. "I would never do 'kinky shit' with Kyle. I have a sound moral compass and wouldn't cheat on my boyfriend." She crossed her arms over her grandma-esque sweater, narrowing her soft brown eyes at her best friend, who was lying like an underwear model on her bedspread. "I'm not like you."

Bebe knocked back her head of rickrack curls, cackling. "You're hilarious, acting like I don't already know I'm a slut." She shook her head, smile still wide, glancing at her phone screen once more. Three minutes until her phone could be unlocked.

"You're a slut? Please! You haven't even ever had sex with a boy!" Wendy's face was slowly turning purple. "At least I could give Stan a – a boner!"

"Stan got a boner from seeing my thong through my leggings last week."

She felt a little guilty saying it out loud. Bebe could tell her insults were going from jabs between friends to low blows below the belt. She'd only meant to make Wendy uncomfortable by poking fun at her crush on Kyle, not create a chasm in their friendship. The boner comment struck a chord with Wendy. Her face was starting to twist like she'd just smelled a particularly raunchy fart.

She was struggling for words. "Yeah – well – you – I bet the reason Clyde couldn't keep it up was because of your nasty muffin top and your saggy, uneven tits!"

Bebe sat up on Wendy's bed, with a mixed look of amusement and disbelief on her face. "So it finally comes out. My boobs _are_ lopsided." She shrugged, grabbing her bedazzled crop top and tugging it over her head. She hunted down her socks and shoes, pulling them on. "Guess it's good to know that I've also got a…what did you call it? 'Nasty muffin top?'"

Wendy could only helplessly watch Bebe gathering up her things. "Bebe, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that." Her heart, instead of racing, was now starting to weigh like a great stone in her chest.

The blonde gave a tight smile with her over-glossed lips. "Well you did. So there's that." She zipped up her coat, taking a good look at the poster board on the floor. "I want my markers back before I leave."

Guiltily, Wendy dropped to her knees and started to scoop up the scented markers. She knew that Bebe was only trying to add insult to injury, but it was still embarrassing all the same. She felt like she was almost groveling at Bebe's feet. Maybe that's what Bebe wanted. Once each one had been put back in its box, Wendy held them out to Bebe. She grabbed them a bit too quickly.

"Good job on the science project, but hydrogen bonds are formed with polar covalent bonds, not nonpolar."

Wendy glanced at the project and saw the mistake repeated at least six times throughout the entire project. Getting into an argument with a petty, spiteful bitch was the worst. "I'll fix it," Wendy blurted, already reaching into her desk drawer for her whiteout.

Bebe grabbed her fluorescent backpack from the floor, the word 'PINK' written across the front with silver sequins. Leave it to Bebe Stevens to own just about anything Victoria's Secret sold. She gave her best friend – if they even were anymore – a good, long glare before turning on her heel. On her way out of the door, she called, "Have fun on your field trip. See you at school."

Wendy watched her mane of frizzy yellow hair disappear from her doorframe. Slowly, she lowered herself onto her mattress, watching through her window as Bebe threw her backpack into her red Volkswagen Beetle. It took two tries for Bebe's engine to start. Once it did, her tires screeched as she sped off into the Colorado night.

Feeling miserable and coming off the adrenaline high she'd received from yelling, Wendy picked up her phone and opened up the text from Kyle she'd forgotten to answer.

'She just left,' she responded, falling into her mountain of pink and purple pillows. For extra comfort, she picked up her panda pillow, hugging it close to her stomach.

Kyle's next response was quick. 'I was only asking because she sent Kenny a naked picture of herself but put my name in the message. Was it meant for me?'

Wendy gasped so hard she choked on her spit. It was just as she had feared. Bebe had sent a nude to the one boy in South Park with an infamous spank bank he shared with the boys at school. Everyone at South Park High School was going to see those pictures. In a hurry, Wendy called Kyle. He picked up on the first ring.

She didn't bother to say hello. "Did she really send it to Kenny instead of you?"

"Yeah. I'm with him and Stan at a party right now." The music in the background was dim enough for her to know that Kyle had stepped outside to take the call.

Wendy chewed her fingernails. "Did he put it in The Archive?"

The Archive was Kenny's fabled spank bank of legend. Every nude from every girl who had ever sent one in South Park was packed into a secret folder on Google Drive. Any person with the password, which supposedly changed every other week, was able to gain access to a myriad of naked selfies, screenshotted Snapchats of underage boobs in skimpy bras, and even the occasional picture of the girls' locker room taken by a spy. The mere possibility that Bebe might even be in The Archive was making Wendy's skin crawl.

"I don't know if he did. He's in the bathroom right now but he took his phone with him. He could be putting it in there right now."

She made a nervous sound, standing up from her bed to pace her room. "I can't believe this. I told her she shouldn't have sent it and she did anyway."

Kyle cleared his throat on the other line. "So…why did she send me a picture of herself like that in the first place?"

"She's always been obsessed with whether or not her boobs are lopsided. I tried to tell her that they aren't because I don't think it matters anyway, but she was really worried about it tonight and decided to ask you because she knew you couldn't lie about it since you're Jewish."

She could hear his breath on the other line. Somehow, it seemed to comfort her, just a little bit. "That doesn't even make sense. Are guys supposed to care if boobs are lopsided?"

"Exactly! They aren't!" Wendy couldn't help but smile. "I knew you would get it. But now this picture is going to end up God knows where just because she was feeling self-conscious."

"I'll see if I can talk Kenny out of putting it in The Archive. Sound good?"

Now a bit more relaxed, Wendy fell into her desk chair. "Thank you so much. I've got to call Bebe, but text me or FaceTime me or whatever when you've talked to Kenny, all right?"

"I will. See you tomorrow on the bus to Denver."

Wendy smiled. "See you tomorrow. Bye."

"Bye."

He hung up. Wendy sat in her desk chair for a moment, holding her phone to her chest. Everything that Bebe had said to get under her skin about her crush on Kyle came flooding back. Angrily, she shook her head, snapping out of her lovesick little girl trance. Now was not the time to sigh dreamily and stare off into space. Wendy had a best friend to rescue.

* * *

Back at the Stevens residence, Bebe came up the stairs, throwing her backpack on the landing and depositing her Converse on the way to her room. With an irritated grunt, she fell onto her bed, pulling her phone from her pocket. How weird. She had a text from Kenny _and_ Kyle. She unzipped her winter coat with one hand, the other properly putting in her passcode. In a moment of insecurity, she decided to read Kenny's first. She was too nervous to see what Kyle had said about her picture. Four words from Kenny McCormick made her lungs stop and her heart still. 'This isn't Kyle lol.'

Right away, her phone went off. It was Wendy. Bebe answered, her throat starting to close and her eyes burning with hot tears.

"I'm going to be an Archive girl," Bebe choked. "I didn't want to be that big of a slut!"

"I heard everything from Kyle. Did you know you were sending it to Kenny?"

Bebe grabbed a fistful of her kinky hair. "No! Their names are right next to each other in my phone, I must have hit Kenny instead!" Her sobs were close together, high pitched, and frantic.

Wendy was going into best friend therapy mode. "All right, I want you to calm down. Take some deep breaths."

The blonde began to slow her breathing, fat tears wobbling down her cheeks. When she spoke, she sounded like a blubbering baby. "Okay."

"I talked to Kyle already. He said he's going to talk to Kenny about keeping it out of The Archive. Until then, don't talk to anyone. Don't tell any of our friends that you sent a nude. If you do, then someone might ask Kenny for it and we don't want it leaking anywhere. Got it?"

Bebe nodded even though she knew Wendy couldn't see her. "Got it."

Wendy sighed. "I'm sorry I said that stuff. And I'm sorry this is happening to you. For now, what you need to do is drink a glass of water, get ready for bed, and go to sleep. I'll text you in the morning and give you a status report. Sound good?"

Bebe sniffed and gave a little sob. "Yeah. I forgive you. But it's still fucked up that you said I had a nasty muffin top."

"It's only in that one pair of low-rise hip huggers with the hearts on the pockets. Those make it so bad," Wendy laughed.

"Fair enough. I'll get ready for bed." Bebe could feel a watery grin surfacing from her fit of crying.

"Okay. Good night, Bebe."

"'Night, Wendy."

Bebe wasn't as dumb as she made herself out to be. She knew that almost every piece of advice Wendy offered was both sound and sane. But as she stood, staring at the miserable image of her crying face in her vanity mirror, Bebe had a realization.

She didn't give a fuck what Wendy had to say about the situation.

The blonde stood up, ripped her crop top and yoga pants off, and marched to her closet. She yanked her best dress from its hanger – a little black number with a low neckline that worked wonders on her cleavage – and stepped into her favorite pair of patent leather red heels that she'd stolen from a Halloween store. She stuffed her red handbag full of Trojans and sat in front of her vanity to cover up the aftereffects of her breakdown.

A generous amount of concealer, eyeliner, and mascara later, Bebe was ready to conquer the world. Or at least just her very small corner of it. She picked up her cellphone, smirk tugging at her painted lips.

"Hey, Clyde. Did you say there was a party at your place tonight? Good. Make sure there's an empty room for us when I get there, all right?" She scooped up her keys and tossed her handbag over her shoulder. "Can't wait."

If people were going to talk about the newest Archive girl, Bebe Stevens was going to give them something to talk about.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

Parties at Clyde's house had lost their appeal after Kyle Broflovski barfed his weight in Jell-O shots the morning after attending his first one in sophomore year. Stan had begged him to go and keep him company that Friday night since Wendy was busy doing her science project that was due on Monday. His best friend had since disappeared to go smoke with some burnouts in Clyde's basement. Kyle hung out on the fringes of the party, replying to Wendy's bemoaning texts in regards to her lab partner in chem class. His beer had long since gone flat and warm in his red Solo cup, and he'd never really liked beer anyway. He left it lying lonely on Clyde's coffee table, waiting impatiently outside of the bathroom where Kenny had retreated with his phone – and Bebe's nude.

Sometimes Kyle wished he wasn't such a good guy. He could've cared less about Bebe ending up in The Archive. That is, he _should've_ cared less, and he didn't, because where Wendy was concerned, he tended to care a lot. He checked his phone. Wendy had texted him that she had told Bebe to stay home and go to bed earlier. Kyle was praying that Bebe had listened to her best friend. They both knew that Bebe was just the kind of drama queen to do something to make the situation so much worse than it already was.

Kyle himself had never seen The Archive of legend. Kenny had offered him the password at least twenty different times, but he could never bring himself to accept it. The thought of getting off to girls who didn't even know their nudes were kept in a secret online collection was just off-putting in general. The stories he'd heard of guys creeping into the girls' locker room to sneak pictures after gym class in exchange for getting that week's password were plain bat shit crazy. Wasn't online porn enough for them? He couldn't imagine facing expulsion from school just to see some random fifteen year old girl in her underwear.

Right now, however, he was mainly pissed that Kenny was taking so long in the bathroom. Kyle was worried that he was actually putting the picture Bebe had accidentally sent to him in The Archive. Just as he went to knock on the door, Kenny emerged, eyes bloodshot.

"What's up, man?" His voice was rough and gravelly, confirming that he'd probably been smoking.

How did Kyle go about this? He hoped he'd acquired enough tact over his seventeen years of life to manage to make it through their conversation. "That picture of Bebe…you're not going to put it in The Archive, are you?"

Kenny's blue eyes looked pensive. "I dunno. I was kind of thinking about it while I was taking that dump." He gave a dismissive shrug, pausing to tug on his uneven sweatshirt drawstrings.

The red-haired boy winced. "Well, would you consider maybe not putting it in there?"

His friend looked up, surprised. "I didn't think you would care. You're not friends with her or anything."

"Well, yeah," Kyle began, still trying to lay out a roadmap to success in his head, "But she's friends with Wendy."

The blond rolled his eyes. "That's right. I keep forgetting you're trying to bone her."

Kyle's cheeks filled with color. "Not true. Wendy and I are just friends." He ran his hand over his face, suddenly frustrated. "I'm just asking you as a friend to not put that picture she sent you in there. I think that's fair enough to ask."

"Considering she sent it to me…" Kenny mused, seeming to weigh his options in his head, "I sort of think Bebe wanted to be in the spank bank and tried to play it off like she meant to send it to you."

"Are you kidding?" Kyle's tone was suddenly accusatory. He could tell by the shift in Kenny's face that he was _not_ approaching this as delicately as he originally intended. "It's completely degrading and embarrassing to be in a giant stash of pictures of naked girls that guys jack off to. There's no way Bebe would want to be in there."

Kenny cocked his head to the side like a curious puppy. "Really? I think it's an ego boost for them, honestly. I mean, who doesn't want guys doing the dumbest shit to get a password that's only good for a couple of weeks of jerking off just so they can see them in a bra?"

"Any girl with a shred of self-respect, maybe?"

A wide grin spread across Kenny's face, flashing his missing canine he'd lost ages ago. "You and I both know that Bebe Stevens has about as much self-respect as I've got money."

Kyle went to protest again when the front door opened. A blast of cold December air came rushing in, doing little to cool the growing heat in Clyde's gyrating, teenager-packed living room. Kyle stood on the tips of his toes to see who'd arrived and blanched. A head of curly blonde hair began to weave through the crowd, away from the two boys, who shared a look. Once she'd been united with a head of mousy brown hair – Clyde, no doubt – the couple made their way up the stairs, his hand _very_ much on her ass.

When Kenny looked at Kyle, he was nodding with an impressed look on his face. "Didn't know Bebe had it in her to send a nude to one dude meant for another and manage to screw a completely different guy all on the same night. Kudos to her."

"Wendy told her to stay home! What is she doing here?" Kyle pulled his phone out of his pocket, pulling up his conversation with Wendy to rat out her best friend. His fingers were texting at lightning speed.

"She's here to get some dick," Kenny said simply, beginning to walk away, "I'll think about what you said, Kyle!"

Kyle had no time to protest Kenny's departure because Wendy was calling him again. He held the phone up to his ear and instantly pulled it a few inches away. She was livid. Kyle could barely make out what she was screaming until he made it out of the sliding glass doors to the backyard. He pretended to not notice the skinny dippers splashing around in Clyde's heated swimming pool.

"What is that crazy bitch doing?" Wendy shrieked, "She knows she's supposed to lay low while this whole Archive fiasco is going on!"

"I know," Kyle tried to reply soothingly.

She kept on with her supersonic level of yelling. "I'm going to _kill_ her! Ugh!" Thankfully, she paused to take a breath so Kyle's ears had a moment to recover. "We all know she's done some scarily stupid shit in the past but I never thought she'd risk having her nudes spread everywhere just to lose her virginity to her ex-boyfriend!"

"I don't think it's that drastic yet."

Wendy groaned. "Kenny fucking McCormick has Bebe's nudes. It was drastic as soon as she hit 'send.'"

He was feeling a little miserable at that point. Not only had he failed to convince Kenny to keep Bebe's nudes to himself, now his best friend's girlfriend was screaming at him over the phone. Kyle was beginning to wish he'd told Stan he needed to stay home that night. It was already nearing eleven o'clock and he had to wake up at the crack of dawn to catch the bus to Denver in the morning for the science club field trip.

"It'll be all right."

"How do you know?" She sounded on the verge of tears.

He tried to smile. "I just know. Trust me on this one, all right? I'm thinking that maybe all of this shit is going to make other, non-shitty things fall into place."

Kyle could hear Wendy's gentle breath rattling across the receiver. A brief, invasive thought made him wish her breath was on his lips. He flushed red and tried to banish the notion that had flashed in his mind once Wendy spoke again.

"She's my best friend. I care about her a lot. If she's not going to watch out for her future, I feel like I have to."

He nodded in understanding. "I know." He desperately wanted Wendy to destress. "You know, you're a good friend, Wendy."

She laughed and Kyle suddenly felt a lot better about everything. Relief seemed to crash over him like a big ocean wave. "What I wouldn't give to hear Bebe say those exact words to me."

"She's probably a lot more thankful than you know. Don't worry about anything. Like I said, I think it'll work itself out."

For a while, neither one of them said anything. Kyle was about to hang up when Wendy suddenly spoke.

"I'm glad we're friends." There was an awkward pause. "Really glad. Thanks for everything, Kyle."

He smiled, his cheeks hurting. There was a weird pinch in his chest. "Me too. If you need anything else, just call me. I think I'm going to head home from Clyde's in a bit."

He heard the squeak of mattress springs as Wendy threw herself onto her bed. "Okay. I will. Bye, Kyle."

"See you, Wendy." He hung up.

 _Friends_. The word rolled around in Kyle's mind for a moment. He slapped his phone against his palm for a moment, biting his lips. His head was beginning to hurt. Why did girls always have to be so complicated? He could dedicate his whole life to trying to figure out the female mind and never succeed, he thought. Without saying goodbye to anyone, Kyle drove back home and sat in his room, waiting for Wendy to call. She never did.

* * *

Sex with Clyde Donavan was about as exciting as one expected sex with a self-centered jock to be. Bebe laid underneath of him, sweaty hair beginning to stick to her neck as he peppered her chest with hickeys. She wondered how his mouth could be so wet yet doing so many things wrong at the same time.

She felt a flurry of anxiousness – or maybe embarrassment, or something – in her stomach as Clyde slid his sticky, sweaty hand into her thong. His other hand alternated between pulling out tangles in her curls to squeezing her left tit like it was a stress ball. Bebe felt like her crotch was a desert. She'd never been more turned off in her life. Gently, she pushed Clyde away.

"What's wrong?" He asked, voice as nasal and asshole-y as ever.

Bebe forced a sickeningly sweet smile and tried to look as sexy as she could with hot sweat pouring down her face. "I need a shot. Or beer, or some weed, or something. Can you get some for me?" To make the offer sweeter, she played with the rumpled neck of his letterman's jacket, tracing down his chest and pulling on the waistband of his jeans.

Clyde kissed her again. His tongue reminded Bebe not of the romance novels she used to sneak from her mom's bedroom, but of a sad, wet snail. He pulled away and Bebe tried to avoid meeting eyes with him.

"Sure thing. I can tell you're probably nervous about doing it."

"You got me," she said in an unusually high-pitched voice, "just go get me a little something to take the edge off, will you?"

Clyde gave her a definitive nod, rolling off of his parents' bed. He closed the door behind himself on the way out. In the turgid darkness, Bebe made a mad dash to the bathroom. When she flicked on the light she visibly cringed at her appearance.

Her foundation and concealer were sinking into the lines on her face and her lipstick was smeared around her mouth in a way that made her look like she'd chugged a gallon of Kool-Aid or made out with a clown. She didn't even want to think about the sweat that was inching down her back and neck. Bebe braced her hands on the cool marble sink in front of her.

Her heart was pounding in her chest, forcing anxious color into her cheeks. She couldn't put a finger on why she was feeling so nervous. Maybe what Wendy said about her muffin top and solo saggy boob was starting to get to her. What if Clyde couldn't get it up again because Bebe was just _that_ unattractive? Granted, she did put on a ton of weight in middle school because she stopped cheering for a few years. Then she gave the whole bulimia thing a go in freshman year, but could never trigger her gag reflex, so she was just eating a ton of food and never throwing it up.

Bebe stared at her reflection in the mirror for a long time. _You're not a little bitch, you can do this,_ she told herself, _you're going to ride Clyde Donovan's dick._

She actually wasn't really sure where this intimate desire to rid herself of her virginity was coming from. Maybe she really _did_ take what Wendy said to heart and she was just trying to prove to her best friend that she could give Clyde a hard-on, muffin top or no.

She met eyes with the girl in the mirror. Shaking her head, she grabbed a chunk of toilet paper, rubbing off some of her ruined makeup and dabbing her soaking wet armpits with it. For good measure, she wiped front to back, flushing the evidence. She was beginning to feel impatient. How hard was it to locate one little joint at a party? Was it too much to ask for one flat beer or cheap tequila shot?

Bebe made her way back into the bedroom, walking with a wide gait so her crotch could catch a little breeze. She took the time to crack a window, checking out Clyde's parents' bedroom. Bebe vaguely remembered his real mom dying back in elementary school, but his dad had since been remarried to some other hopeless middle-aged woman in South Park. Bebe opened a nightstand drawer and chose to forget the sight of the vibrator that rolled forward. Cheeks red, she closed the drawer, sitting politely on the bed and making the solemn decision to quit invading others' privacy.

The door opened and Bebe plastered on another heavy-lidded-come-hither face. It was Craig. Her face fell and his eyes widened as if he was surprised to see her.

"Sorry, Bebe. Didn't know someone was in here."

She laughed a little, trying to loosen up the tension building in the center of her chest. "You're fine. Hey, did you see Clyde down there? I sent him to get me some booze."

Craig pondered for a moment. "I think Heidi Turner was hitting on him at the beer keg."

Bebe steamed silently, cursing Heidi in her mind. "Thanks. I think Clyde's sister is out of town with his parents if you want to try her bedroom." It was hard to look indifferent when she was actually a little hurt that Clyde was taking forever just to talk to another girl.

Craig shrugged. "Already tried it. Thanks, though." It was hard to tell in the dark, but she thought he had offered her a little bit of an apologetic smile.

The blonde returned the gesture. "No problem. See you at school?"

Craig nodded, tugging Tweek along behind him as he closed the door and went off in search of an empty room to bone in. Once again, Bebe was left alone, feeling incredibly more pissed than she had minutes ago. She began tapping her foot impatiently. If Clyde didn't bring her back four Jell-O shots and some _really_ good acid, she would have to think twice about attempting to suck his dick again.

She had nodded off before Clyde finally returned. She woke up to a feeble attempt at being kissed romantically awake. Bebe gave him a stony glare, yanking the alcohol from his hand and trying to look tough by taking it down in one go. It took every fiber of her being to keep herself from choking on the harsh burn. Was that whiskey? Damn.

"Sorry it took so long. Heidi would _not_ leave me alone." When Bebe didn't respond, Clyde sat next to her and snaked a hand around the inside of her thigh. "When I told her I was spending the night with you that shut her up."

Bebe scoffed and pulled her dress over her head. "I don't care. Let's just get this over with."

Clyde looked confused as always. "Get it over with?" If Bebe wasn't mistaken, there was a hint of pain in his voice.

She finally locked eyes with him. "Let's just fuck, all right?"

She didn't have to say it again. Clyde kissed her and it tasted like menthols. Her eyes were open the entire time. Slowly, they leaned into the mattress, Bebe's sweat beginning to stick to the cheap synthetic silk already. A nagging thought was chewing at the back of her mind. _Let this be over soon._

Bebe watched as he slipped his belt through the loops on his jeans, dropping it on the carpeted floor with a dull thunk. He wiggled out of his pants and hastily pulled off his white briefs, attempting to hide them from her. As if she cared what underwear he was wearing. She took a few deep breaths, her leg bouncing involuntarily. Clyde's hand wandered down, forcing her legs apart. Her thong was thrown in a faraway corner. It was so close. She was about to have sex for the first time. Her heart was hammering away at a mile a minute. Bebe jammed a stray condom into his sweaty palm.

She almost couldn't force herself to watch him roll it on. She was worried he wasn't turned on and this whole attempt would be another failure. Her eyes were glued shut. _Just look!_ She mentally screamed, _just look at his dick, Bebe!_ With one last move of courage, bravery, and gusto, she focused her eyes on the dim image of Clyde's hard-on. She grinned, falling back into the pillows breathing a glorious sigh of relief. She _could_ turn guys on, even with a muffin top! All of her anxiety seemed to melt. Now all she had to worry about was actually having sex.

Clyde rested his equally sweaty forehead on Bebe's, bracing himself on the pillows with one arm. With the other hand, he tried helplessly to find where to actually stick his dick. Bebe laid there awkwardly, finally feeling the wave of dizziness from the whiskey she'd chugged. With a helping hand, she helped him find her entrance, and with one jolting thrust, she had lost her virginity.

She didn't feel any different right away. Clyde made a kind of weird shuddering sound between a grunt and a stalled car engine. He layered himself directly on top of her, doing nothing for their sweat situation. All Bebe could think about was that it hurt a lot worse than Wendy told her it did.

The blonde linked her arms around his neck, her throat beginning to close up. She didn't dare. This wasn't really going to happen, was it? Oh no – the tears began to come, slowly and then like a torrential rainforest downpour. She had never been more embarrassed in her life, not even when she ripped a huge fart in front of everyone at the pep rally during her cheer stunt. Clyde pulled away with a face of uncertainty. He reminded Bebe of a first time parent not knowing how to change a baby's diaper. All he had to do was comfort her. It didn't take a genius to know that.

"Does it hurt?" Despite asking this question, he was happily humping away at her sensitive lady parts.

She could only manage to nod, sobs coming faster. She just wanted him to hold her or tell her she was pretty, just _something_ to distract her from the pain. Why were boys so dumb?

He weighed his options for a moment, hips still rocking against her own. "I can stop if you want?"

Bebe shook her head, trying to catch her breath. Her nose was like a leaking faucet.

"You sure?"

She kissed him, lips covered in salty tears and tangy snot, pulling his body closer. It sort of felt nice to hold him, like they were a couple and not a pair of clueless, clumsy teenagers trying to act like adults. It took Clyde a moment, but he wrapped his arms around her body, tangling one of his hands in her hair. He pulled back, meeting Bebe's eyes and stroking her cheek with his still sweaty fingers. He wiped away her tears with his thumb. It was strangely intimate. The weight of what she was doing was finally hitting her, a little bit at a time. She was reminded of why she started dating him in the first place and wondered why she'd ended up cheating on him with Token. Bebe gave him another soft kiss.

The longer they had sex the less it hurt. She remembered reading somewhere that alcohol could make someone last longer in bed and she was glad that Clyde was next to plastered. He was still a little too handsy for her liking, though, exploring her body with his open palms like he was a blind man trying to find his way in unknown territory. She didn't like it when he felt up her stomach rolls. For a second, Bebe almost thought it was starting to feel _nice._

He panted into her ear with steamy breath. She realized he was still wearing his letterman and t-shirt and quickly pulled them off in a horny, hormone driven frenzy. Bebe relished in the feeling of his bare chest pressed against her skin. Clyde took no time in finding the clasp to her bra, freeing Bebe's biggest insecurity. She waited for him to make an ignorant comment about how one boob was smaller, but he never did. Instead, he handled them with great care for a boy so drunk. Bebe hummed happily. Wendy was right about boys having a lot more to worry about than what her chest looked like. Bebe guessed for a teenage boy, all boobs had to be were boobs.

A quiet moan slipped from between her teeth. Bebe surprised herself. Was she actually _enjoying_ this? Maybe sex wasn't so bad after all. Thankfully Clyde couldn't hear Bebe's moan over his own enthusiastic soundtrack of groans, panting, and grunts. A little pool of heat was beginning to fill in Bebe's abdomen. She could feel it building up, bit by bit. Sometimes when Clyde hit a certain spot it lurched. All inhibitions cast aside, Bebe began to join Clyde in his chorus. Her fake nails were creating long, pink slices along his skin. He had a toned, muscled back from playing so many sports and she adored it. Bebe ran her hands along his strong arms, relishing in the feeling of his rippling muscles beneath her fingertips. There was no doubt that Clyde was definitely a butter face.

His whole body tensed and he caught his breath. "Fuck," he whispered, curling against her body. He stood still for only a second before collapsing on top of Bebe.

She was left wondering if that was all to sex. "Are you done?" She asked, still panting.

He nodded. It seemed that for a short while, they were suspended in time, both dripping in sweat and struggling to catch their breath. Clyde was the first to move. He rolled from his position on top of Bebe, immediately pulling on his briefs and pants.

Bebe shook her head. "You're really just going to leave?" Her voice was still weak from her previous fit of tears induced from losing her virginity. "I didn't even… _come._ "

He looked at her from his spot on the bed like she was crazy. After a moment, he looked away, in a state of awe. "It was a booty call, Bebe."

"It…" she felt like she might cry again. Was she PMSing? "It was my first time."

Clyde scoffed in an amused, arrogant sort of way. "Yeah, I could tell."

He went around the room, gathering up Bebe's stuff and throwing it on the bed. She looked at her pile of clothes before making eye contact with him. His expression was hard to read. He pulled his red t-shirt over his head. As he threaded his arms through the leather sleeves of his letterman, he began to speak again. Bebe was thinking it was all one bad dream.

"Don't think too much into it, okay?"

Her body was a little bit numb and prickly, like she'd fallen asleep from head to toe.

Clyde made a few cautious steps toward her and gave her the look one might give a puppy they were about to put down. He leaned down, gave her damp forehead a quick kiss, and walked back toward the door. When he opened it, casting a pane of dim light from the party across the bed, he turned back around. It looked like he was thinking about saying something. He didn't. He closed the door on his way out.

Bebe sat in silence for a little while. She traced her lips with her fingers, remembering the still lingering feeling of Clyde kissing her. What just happened?

As she got dressed, the anger inside of her only grew. Furious, she grabbed her car keys in her fist and stomped out of the party, ignoring all attempts at cheerleaders and cute boys alike attempting to talk to her. She slammed the door to her little Beetle and screamed at the top of her lungs.

"Clyde Donavan is such a huge fucking _dick_!"

Even as she screamed it, she didn't want to believe it was true. She banged her forehead against her steering wheel, gripping both sides. The horn blared down the block. How could he have been so sweet during sex, wiping away her tears and holding her, and then turn around and act like a complete douchebag? It was like he was flip flopping between two utterly opposite personalities. She wanted the nice one to be around her all time.

She had fond memories of everything they did together as a couple. She'd done her first keg stand with him. He'd been with her through her entire boho hippie phase when she refused to wear makeup and only dressed in hideous floral prints and ankle-length skirts. She supported him on the sidelines when he made the saving touchdown for the South Park Cows. Together, they were a perfect couple – party-hungry cheerleader and the full-of-himself football player. Feelings she had been trying to suppress since their messy breakup the month before were surfacing like she'd just squeezed a zit that wasn't quite ready to pop yet.

"I don't want Clyde Donovan to be a huge fucking dick."


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

Kenny spent a lot of lonely Saturdays with Stan on his couch, playing Call of Duty or watching something stupid on Comedy Central. Sometimes there was weed, sometimes there wasn't, it depended entirely on how far Kenny could stretch his paychecks. Both still a little hungover from the night before, they twiddled the joysticks on Stan's Xbox controllers numbly, watching the screen. They were unshowered and mussed from lack of sleep.

Stan's mom came in, smiling at the boys and leaving a couple of Dr. Peppers on the table. "Hi, Kenny," she greeted with a lilted voice, adjusting the throw pillows on the couch. "How're your parents?"

"Drunk, stoned, and deadbeat. The usual, thanks for asking," Kenny deadpanned, delivering yet another money shot on the game. Stan whooped, impressed.

Sharon nodded, watching the TV with her hands on her hips. Kenny took the time between respawns to look at her. Despite getting on in years, she was still pretty, her flat brown hair beginning to sparkle with gray and the lines around her eyes looking a bit deeper than they had the last time he'd been over.

"I just don't know how you two can play these violent games." She shook her head, collecting a Funyuns bag from beneath her son's feet.

Stan gave his mom a dangerous look. "Mom."

She waved him away and picked up the paper plates they'd used to indulge in mini bagel pizzas half an hour ago. "Okay, I can see I'm being too motherly and embarrassing you. Have fun, you two."

"Thanks, Sharon," Kenny called after her.

Her laugh followed her out of the living room. Kenny had always been fond of Stan's mom. She'd been sympathetic to his rough life at home and money problems before he could remember. He couldn't recall how many times she'd dug change out of her purse to give him lunch money or sent him generous checks for Christmas or his birthday. Stan was lucky to have a mom like Mrs. Marsh.

They played for a little while longer. Stan felt like his brain was turning to mush. "I'm bored."

Kenny tossed his controller on the empty couch cushion to his side. "Me too. Wanna smoke?"

Stan weighed the options in his mind, his mouth in a crooked line. Finally, he shook his head. "Nah, I'm good. Thanks, though. Wendy's kind of been up my ass about how much I smoke."

"How are you guys doing?" Kenny wasn't thinking about Stan – he was thinking about Kyle's crush on Wendy.

The black-haired boy looked off at a faraway point, his thick eyebrows knitted together. "I dunno. Fine, I guess. Honestly…since we hooked up that one time after her birthday, she's been a little weird around me."

Kenny chuckled. "I keep forgetting that even happened. How did you get Wendy Testaburger to agree to fuck in a car?"

Stan grinned a little, cheering up at the thought of remembering his sexual exploits. "It wasn't in a car; it was in the bed of my truck. I played it up like we were going to go watch the stars and be all romantic and whatever. She was super into it. She even brought a fucking telescope."

The blond couldn't contain his guffaw. "Your girlfriend brought a telescope to lose her virginity? That's weak, man." He shook his head, watching as Stan's face began to gain back some of its usual color.

"She was setting it up so I came up behind her to hold her, 'cause she loves when I do stuff like that. We started making out and it just happened." Stan looked at Kenny with a weary look on his face. "I didn't last very long. I don't think she was impressed."

"Nobody does their first time," Kenny sympathized wisely, "I didn't either."

Stan pondered for a moment with his lips pursed. "Who was your first?"

"It doesn't even count, really." He tried to be dismissive, but Stan pressed further.

"Nah, I want to know. Do I know her?"

Kenny tried to act modest but couldn't bite back his smug grin. "Lola."

Stan's jaw almost hit the floor. "Lola? She's like, the hottest girl in eleventh grade!"

Arguably, this was true. Lola kept to herself mostly, but still managed to fit in with the popular clique. She grew her hair out so long it hit the small of her back and moved like a liquid curtain of silk when she walked, the perfect pathway down to her butt – something so beautifully round it belonged in the MoMA. She was never seen anywhere but the classiest parties or at her part time job in the mall, working in Hollister, always sporting a pair of tiny shorts that showed off her long legs. No one ever had anything bad to say about her. It came as quite the shock to Stan that someone as put together and straight-laced as Lola would let Kenny sleep with her.

"I wouldn't say she's the hottest," Kenny began, raking his mind for someone hotter. "She's got no tits."

Stan hummed. "I kind of like that. Not in a pedophile way, either, I'm not creepy. But I like that Wendy has that athletic build."

"You're into that Serena Williams type, huh?" Kenny could understand that Stan was into that look, since he himself was pretty built. "I like my women thick."

"…Thick?"

Kenny nodded, fondly picturing the asses of Nicki Minaj and Kim Kardashian in his mind's eye. " _Thick_. Big ass, big tits, big thighs, maybe even a little tummy. That's the kind of girl for me."

Stan started laughing despite himself. "Then why'd you fuck Lola?"

"It was before my spiritual awakening," Kenny clarified, nodding at Stan sagely. "It was before I had seen Bebe in a bikini."

"You think Bebe is…hot?" The mere thought made Stan shiver.

Stan had heard plenty about Bebe from Wendy. When they were younger, she was tolerable. She liked wearing a lot of pink and red, and he remembered getting one of his first hard-ons in school from seeing her lacy black bra strap peeking out from under her tank top. As they got older, transitioning from awkward middle school years to painful high school years, she was way more into the stereotype of partying on weekends and getting blackout drunk than everyone else. She gained a ton of weight from drinking so much and still insisted on wearing skimpy outfits only hundred pound models could pull off. He tried to remember the last time he'd heard something good about Bebe, but couldn't locate a specific compliment. Still, he had to admit there was something about her raw sexuality – that is, how easy it was to get her to go down on a guy – that made her a little appealing.

Kenny went back and forth. "I mean, she's not drop-dead gorgeous or anything. But her _ass_ , oh my God, it's huge. And have you seen her tits recently? She's got to be a DD cup by now. Don't get me wrong. I'd never date her or anything, 'cause she's so trashy, but I'd fuck her if she wanted me to."

Stan digested what Kenny had told him, playing with the buttons on his Xbox controller even though they had long since quit playing the game. The more he thought about it, the more he pictured Kenny and Bebe together as a dream team. Together, they could probably guzzle down an entire beer keg. It was all too easy to imagine them sitting together on Kenny's ratty sofa, eyes bloodshot and both giggling with bongs in their laps. He turned to look at Kenny, who was staring at something on his phone.

"So what are you doing with the nude she sent you?"

Kenny locked his phone with a press of the power button. He began fiddling with it in his hands, mouth tightening in an indecisive thin line. "I don't know yet."

Stan scratched at his black hair. "You're not going to put it in The Archive?"

The blond boy shrugged. "I'm thinking about it. Usually the guys who _get_ nudes send them to me. I'm not used to girls sending them to me."

"Don't girls send you nudes all the time?"

Kenny chuckled. "No, they let me see it in person." His eyes glazed over at the thoughts of his last sexual exploits. He snapped out of it when he felt Stan's blue eyes flickering to the TV with thoughts of beginning to play games again. "Any chick with half a brain knows if I end up with a picture it'll be memorialized in The Archive."

"Well, what's so different about Bebe?"

Kenny thought that was a really good question. "I dunno. It just doesn't feel right, I guess. Kyle tried to talk me out of it and now I feel a little guilty for being the mastermind behind all of those nudes being online and everything."

"You can always stop, man. Just delete it. People will stop talking about it eventually."

He gave a deep sigh from his belly. "I'm too hungover to think about this kind of shit. Let's talk about something else."

Stan didn't hesitate to dive into their favorite topic of conversation – sex. "Okay, so you've got to give me details, dude. How was Lola in the sack?"

Kenny let out a low whistle. "Sack is a generous word to describe the storage room in the auditorium."

Stan slapped his leg. "You fucked in the storage room? When?"

If there was one thing boys liked, it was exchanging fond stories of getting ass.

"It was in freshman year, when we did Legally Blonde for the musical. During intermission, she grabbed me by my tie, dragged me into the closet, and started sucking my dick. It was one of the most surreal things that's ever happened to me."

It was easy for him to forget that Kenny had gotten into musical theatre in middle school when Stan had always stuck with what he knew best – football. South Park Middle School had gotten a grant to put on Seussical Jr. when Kenny was in seventh grade. After that, it wasn't uncommon to see Kenny practicing lines after school or belting out show tunes in front of the people he was comfortable with. Stan remembered being dragged to see Kenny as Warner in Legally Blonde by Wendy and her friends during their freshman year and was floored when he started singing. It almost made him a little jealous sometimes. Chicks always thought it was hot when Kenny sang a love ballad in one of his many musical performances.

Kenny had a wistful, faraway look in his eyes. "It was the first and last time I'd ever missed a cue."

"Maybe I should go with Wendy to audition for one of those shows, if that's what it takes to get her to want to have sex with me again."

"It's like some kind of magic," Kenny insisted, "Girls see you in a costume with some cheap eyeliner on and it gets them all heated. I've fucked almost every decent looking chick in the drama department."

Stan also thought it helped that Kenny was both good looking and an amazing performer. When they walked down the hallway together, he could hear the whispers of excited girls talking about how they were both the hottest guys at South Park High. Stan was a little too humble to admit it, but he figured it probably had something to do with him being football captain. He could see it with Kenny, though. He'd stopped wearing his hood all closed up around his face in middle school and became an instant hit with girls. When they got old enough to actually start _touching_ them, he was known as the boy with golden hands. It didn't take a genius to catch on to Stan's envy over Kenny's newfound glory.

"But if you're serious about auditioning then I'll help you get a good part."

 _Was_ he serious about auditioning? Sure, he could fit rehearsal into his schedule since football season was almost over, but was he ready to be a theatre kid? He thought it would be nice to spend some more time with Wendy. They barely saw each other anymore with how busy they both were, and he could probably get some ass just for running lines with her. But when he thought about how much crap Token got from the guys on the team for going out to audition a few times, he was filled to the brim with insecurity. Stan was comfortable just being a dumb jock that no one expected too much from besides catching a pigskin every once in a while.

"I don't know, man. I'll think about it."

Kenny didn't bring it up again for the rest of the day they hung out. Stan could tell he was satisfied with just the possibility. Kenny's smile wasn't lost until he clambered into his broken up Chevy and drove home. Out of curiosity, Stan snuck into Shelly's room, closing the door behind himself quietly. With musical turned movies under his arm, he crept back into the basement, falling asleep to the chorus of _Mamma Mia._

* * *

Wendy was usually pretty level-headed. She was the ever logical left brain, approaching things the way that made the most sense and solving problems with carefully thought out step by step programs. Kids in school might have laughed at her neatly labelled planner, but they were never the ones laughing when Wendy consistently won awards and honors for her good grades and impeccable test scores. Her eyes were set on Harvard. If she was going to be a senator before forty she didn't have time to care about the kids who teased her for being too smart.

All of her level-headedness went to shit when she was nervous. Even though she knew her presentation by heart, her palms were oozing cool, clammy sweat. She tried to rub them off on her jacket but the waterproof fabric wasn't doing anything to help the situation. She dug another anti-gas pill out of her bag and washed it down with her room temperature water. In a decent amount of pain from her nervous stomachache, she threw her head back, trying to take steadying breaths.

In the seat next to her, Kyle was at a loss. He didn't know what to do. He felt awful sitting there and watching Wendy get herself worked up when they weren't even anywhere near Denver yet. Thankfully, Kyle was a logical thinker himself, and began doing a mental brainstorm. When Ike was nervous, Kyle came into his room and rubbed his back until he fell asleep. He got the feeling Wendy wouldn't appreciate that very much. Before a big case, his dad always took a night to himself with a glass of pinot noir. Again, that didn't seem like the best thing to do on a school sponsored field trip.

What did Kyle do when he was nervous? In the hours before a big marching band performance, he never failed to feel the gnarled head of anxiety rearing in his stomach. What always calmed him down? He was beginning to feel frustrated when the idea hit him like a strike of lightning.

"Wendy?" He tried to keep his voice gentle.

She turned her head the tiniest bit, her brown eyes meeting his own. Kyle thought he saw the tiniest trace of tears sparkling in them. He was struck with the overpowering feeling to wipe them away, but managed to contain himself. He'd lived that long with having a crush on her, he didn't think trying to suppress his feelings one more time was going to hurt anything.

"Here."

A streak of boldness ran through him. He reached out a hand, brushing a piece of her satin hair back from her face. Gently, he pressed one of his headphones in her ear. She looked surprised at first, then her taut expression melted away into a smile. Kyle felt a rush of relief to see her body instantly start to loosen up.

"How did you know Tchaikovsky was my favorite composer?" Although her voice was strained, Kyle could hear the gratitude in it.

He gave a humble shrug, trying not to feel too satisfied. "Your ballet act in the talent show last year was a pretty good hint."

Wendy chuckled. Her cheeks looked a little pinker. "Oh my God, That was horrible. I can't believe you remember that." She ran her hands over her tired face, feeling significantly better.

"You remember the penny-a-vote thing? I put like twenty dollars in your bucket." Kyle couldn't tear his eyes away from Wendy's smile. He was feeling pretty smug for being the reason behind it.

A full out grin broke out across her face. "And I _still_ lost to Kenny's singing."

"To be fair, his entire fan club was there. No one stood a chance."

Wendy's tired eyes were beginning to droop as the music from Swan Lake began to twinkle through their shared headphones. Her head was starting to droop. "Should I demand a recount?"

Kyle shook his head, heart racing as her head of inky black hair was looming closer and closer to his shoulder. "No. You're first place to me."

"That's sweet of you to say." Her voice dropped in volume. She let out a deep yawn, stretching as best as she could in a bus seat.

"You don't need to be nervous, Wendy. You're going to do amazing on our presentation. Don't stress, okay?"

The change in topic caught her a little off guard. "Oh." Her head had started to droop again.

"You should be really proud of yourself. The project is going to win first place for sure."

She nodded, sniffling a little as her temple finally connected with his shoulder. He swallowed, hoping the blush in his face would subside. Was she so tired she didn't realize she was going to sleep on her boyfriend's best friend's shoulder? Not that Kyle minded – he was just worried someone on the bus was going to notice and run to the hills with wild rumors or something.

"Thanks, Kyle." Her eyes were closed and she sounded half-asleep. "You're really nice."

He could tell that she had fallen asleep. With as little movement as possible, Kyle turned down their music, tentatively resting his own head of red curls on top of hers. Her hair was like silk on his cheek. She smelled like cherry perfume and laundry detergent. He thought it was a smell he could get used to.

* * *

Bebe woke up past noon. With a mouth of rancid morning breath and the aftertaste of a makeout session, she stumbled into her bathroom with an upset stomach. She couldn't even turn on the light. Her eyes were way too sensitive from the hangover she was nursing.

"Ugh, _fuck_ ," she moaned, grasping for her toothbrush.

Before she could even grab the toothpaste, a rush of hot vomit came shooting up her esophagus. Gagging, she dropped to her knees, scrambling to the toilet. She puked for what felt like entire minutes. It tasted like bitter whiskey, sour milk, and stale Cheesy Poofs. Being hungover _really_ sucked. She flushed the toilet, laying on her cold bathroom floor, waiting to see if she could look forward to a round two. She really should've quit drinking when she got home last night, but the bottle of wine hidden underneath her bed looked way too appetizing to leave unopened.

She felt like her eardrums were splitting when someone knocked.

"Bebe?" Her mom's sickly sweet voice oozed from the cracks around the door. "Are you all right, sweetie?"

Bebe ripped a loud burp. "Yeah. I just needed to throw up."

"When you're done getting around, come downstairs. I'll get you some Pepto."

"Thanks," Bebe grunted, suppressing another belch.

"I thought you were never going to get out of bed. I've been keeping your breakfast warm in the oven since eight. Be down soon, honey."

"Okay, mom."

Her mom's footsteps were small and delicate as she went back downstairs. Resolutely, Bebe peeled herself from the cold floor, stripping off her pajamas and getting into the shower. She felt a strong urge to rinse away the events of last night. When she closed her eyes, all she could see and feel was Clyde. As much as she wanted to be rid of her feelings, her teenage hormones were like glue. She guessed the best thing she could do was wait this one out.

Out of the shower, she twisted up her mane of tangled curls into a towel, brushing her teeth twice before retreating to her bedroom. She didn't feel like doing anything that day. After her vigorous routine of moisturizers and essential oils was visited, she dressed in a pair of pink sweats and an old cheer camp t-shirt. She'd be damned if she was putting on a bra after the night she had. Donning her favorite pair of cat-shaped slippers, she finally went downstairs, crawling into her favorite spot at the kitchen island.

Her mom was wiping down the counters with lemon-scented cleaner. She only cleaned when she was upset. Bebe wondered if someone had spilled the beans about her having sex with Clyde. As far as she knew, there were no parents on the premises, so who had ratted her out?

"Did you have fun last night?"

Despite her mom's threatening tone, she still passed Bebe a little cup full of disgustingly pink medicine. Bebe downed it like a shot.

"Yeah. Wendy and I got a lot done on our project." She was hoping she could dance around the fact that she'd gotten home well past midnight and came in the house smelling like whiskey and sex.

Mrs. Stevens raised her thinly plucked eyebrows. "You and I both know what I'm talking about, Bebe. You came home, didn't say anything to me or your father, left, and then got back at one o'clock in the morning."

Bebe cursed under her breath. She thought they'd been sleeping when she came home. As if one parent giving her a lecture wasn't enough, her dad came into the kitchen with an empty mug of coffee, tossing his newspaper on the island. His eyes were deathly serious behind his glasses.

"You left without even telling us where you were going. And we weren't born yesterday, Bebe. Waking up at noon, throwing up, and all after coming home in the middle of the night? We know a hangover when we see one."

Her dad's excessive use of the term 'we' was like a cheese grater underneath Bebe's skin. Her parents didn't even sleep in the same bed anymore. Her dad's air mattress in the spare bedroom was a testament to that.

"I'm sorry," she quickly said, hoping she could get off with a plea bargain. "I went to a party. Next time I'll tell you where I'm going."

"I don't think so. No more parties for you, honey." Bebe's mom set a plate full of greasy breakfast food in front of the blonde at the island. "You drove yourself home and I know for a fact that you were drinking. You could've hurt yourself. What were you thinking?"

"Didn't they do Every Fifteen Minutes at your school? Do you know anything about the dangers of drunk driving?"

"Yes, dad," Bebe muttered through her teeth, beginning to feel aggravated. "But I only had one drink." The fact that her mom had a very large mimosa sitting on the counter next to her lemon-scented cleaner was doing nothing for her temper.

"One drink is all it takes." Her dad was starting to get on her nerves.

Mrs. Stevens rolled her eyes. "Are you even listening? Does anything we say get through to you?"

Bebe didn't answer. She was busy angrily chewing up her sausage links. The edges of her vision were beginning to blur with red.

"Of course it doesn't. You're a teenager. Nothing we say matters to you. At your age, it's all 'me, me, me,' and nothing else."

Her mom took a long look at Bebe's exposed neck. She looked like her daughter had just run over the family cat. "Are those _hickeys_? Did you go to that party to meet a boy? Bebe!"

"I bet she went to that party and had sex. God, Bebe, how many ways can you mess up your life in one night? You could've died in a car crash or gotten pregnant!"

She slammed her fork on the table. Her parents jumped. "Okay, I fucking get it! I fucked up! Can I please eat my breakfast in peace without you two jumping down my throat because I had one drink at a stupid party? Is that too much to ask?"

Bebe felt the sting of angry tears prickling at her eyes. She wiped them away with her fists, grabbing her plate and her silverware, stomping up the staircase to her bedroom. Her door was wide open. Instead of going inside and throwing herself on her bed like she should've done, she lingered on the landing. Her parents were already whispering.

"I don't know what to do with her anymore. Every day we fight about something new. I just want her to know that we care." Her mom sounded choked up.

"Don't get upset, honey." She could tell her dad had just taken her mom into his arms. "We've done the best we can. She's at the age where what her parents say to her doesn't matter anymore. Let her learn from her mistakes."

Mrs. Stevens let out a tiny sob. "What happened to the daughter we used to have? Remember the Bebe who used to practice murder cases in the living room with her stuffed animals…are we ever going to get her back?" Another round of sobs. Bebe was beginning to feel guilty for cursing at them.

"She's the same Bebe."

Her mom walked over to what Bebe presumed was her mimosa. "I just don't know. She's always off with all of these different boys…I worry about her."

"Of course you do. She's our daughter. I think she's just a little lost right now."

Mrs. Stevens sighed. "You think so?" The glass of orange juice and champagne hit the counter again, emptied.

"She has to find herself. I know she will, eventually."

"Let's hope eventually doesn't come too late."

Bebe felt like shit. She walked away as her parents retreated into the living room for another round of sitcoms. _Lost_ …was she lost, like her parents had said?

She set her plate on her desk, plopping into her desk chair and swiveling forward to face her computer. Bebe thought she had a pretty good idea of where she was. Sure, she drank a lot, and maybe smoked a little too much, and every once in a while she let the top of her underwear peek out over her waistband so boys would notice when she was wearing cute panties. What was so wrong with that? You're only seventeen once. Was it so bad that she wanted to die without regretting what she could've done in high school? Maybe she _was_ ruining her future.

Thinking about her life _did_ make her feel a little lost. Leave it to parents to cast their kids into existential crises.

Instead of wasting her precious energy pondering her choices, she crawled into her unmade bed, tucking the sheets around herself. Bebe tried and failed to sleep off her hangover. She just couldn't get comfortable enough to fall asleep with her stomach churning the way it was. Eventually, she pulled her phone off the charger, checking her texts. Wendy had tried to text her eight times in the past hour. The cheer squad group chat had blown up with pictures of their new uniforms.

She turned her phone off and threw it across the room into a pile of dirty laundry on the floor. The last thing she needed to do then was talk to someone else who was going to judge her and think it was their place to tell her how to live her life. With a little bit of food in her stomach and Pepto calming her belly, she had more time to think about what had happened last night.

It was hard to wrap her mind around losing her virginity to her ex-boyfriend. Every girl dreams of the big, romantic shindig with lavender and flower petals and someone they don't have complicated feelings about. Bebe felt shittier by the second as she thought about their messy encounter. If only Clyde had just held her afterward, or had one nice thing to say when they had finished.

Frustrated and exhausted, Bebe found a bottle of sleeping pills and took two. She didn't have the energy to think about everything that was wrong in her life.

She dreamed of being a celebrity lawyer to Mr. Snuffles and Lady Wimbles, a married couple of stuffed rabbits going through an extremely messy divorce involving an affair with Duke Tubby, the teddy bear pool boy.

* * *

Hey guys! Thanks so much for reading this. I love feedback, so if you leave a review with what you're thinking about the story I'd be eternally grateful. Make sure you follow and favorite, too! My schedule isn't too hectic right now so I've been able to put out one chapter every Thursday or Friday. Stay updated, thank you, and I'll see you next week with Chapter Four.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four**

Kyle thought Wendy could pull of a pantsuit. They waited outside the doors of the conference room, both trying to take deep breaths and keep themselves from shitting their pants. Wendy's color coded index cards were damp with the sweat from her fingers. Kyle wasn't a drinker but he was certain a shot of vodka would really help with his nerves.

Every time they made eye contact there was another lurch in their stomachs that forced them to admire the sconces on the mustard yellow walls instead of each other. Through the closed doors they could hear the muffled sounds of another presentation being put on, but it wasn't clear enough to discern if Kyle and Wendy's project was up to snuff with the other competitors'. It didn't help that things had been a little tense between them after Wendy woke up off of Kyle's shoulder and immediately turned to her phone to text Stan for the rest of the bus ride. Kyle guessed he was right when he thought Wendy was too tired to notice where she'd fallen asleep. She'd been acting weird ever since.

The sounds through the doors changed. It was time for the scientists to ask questions about the presentation – the most difficult part. Anyone could present something amazing, but most of the points came from answering complicated inquiries about their project. Wendy began chewing on her lip, reviewing potential answers in her head. Kyle did the same, practicing his serious-but-interested face.

The scientists didn't question the students for long. Neither Kyle nor Wendy could tell if that was a good or bad thing. Applause broke out, forcing them to share terrified looks. He didn't know what to say. His desire to be a hero was surfacing as Wendy grabbed the fabric of her navy blue blazer, forcing wrinkles into it with her clammy fists.

"We'll be fine," he squeaked, trying to convince not only Wendy but himself, "We've worked too hard to let nerves ruin our presentation."

Wendy frantically nodded. Her French twist was beginning to fall apart, wisps of her silky black hair escaping the binds of the superfluous amount of bobby pins she'd crammed into her scalp, terrified of looking like a messy high school student in front of such respected scientists. She made a couple of nervous sounds before running at Kyle with her arms outstretched.

He didn't know what she was going to do. She was hurtling at him with no intent of stopping. Kyle tried to back up a couple of steps, running into the wall. They finally met in the middle, Wendy throwing her arms around his neck in a crushing hug. Kyle's back bounced against the wall. It took him a second to hug back, but when he did, he could feel his doubts about their presentation melting away by the second.

"Thank you," her voice was muffled from her mouth being buried in his shoulder, "I don't think I could've done this without you. I'm so glad we're friends."

Her throat sounded like the words were painful. Again, she had to brandish the ' _friends_ ' dagger. Kyle didn't have a lot of experience with girls. He didn't know what to do besides run a supportive hand over her hair. It seemed like an awkwardly long hug, but he didn't mind. That day, she smelled of rich perfume.

The doors opened. The two kids from Fort Collins that had just wrapped up their presentation cleared their throats. Embarrassed, Kyle and Wendy peeled themselves apart, trying to smooth over their clothes and run their hands through their hair. Wendy wondered if the kids thought her and Kyle were an item. She really needed to stop touching him so much.

"You guys are up. Good luck," one of them said, reaching out a civil hand for a handshake.

Both Kyle and Wendy shook their hands. The two kids wandered off back down the hallway to the other conference room where the other students from all around Colorado were waiting.

"That's our last presentation from Fort Collins. Our next contestants are from South Park, Colorado. Please welcome to the stage Kyle Broflovksi and Wendy Testaburger of South Park High School."

The announcer inside made hopeful eye contact with the two. Wendy grabbed Kyle's hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. He turned to look at her. She gave him a somber nod. Kyle was going to give the best presentation of his life if it killed him. They didn't let go until they began the presentation.

* * *

If Clyde didn't answer her texts, Bebe was going to start feeling like a real jackass. She'd texted him at least five times since they'd hooked up at the party, and he had yet to respond to a single one. Bebe hated feeling like she was desperate. She already knew she was, she just detested being reminded of it by some stupid boy she had messy feelings about.

Wendy was going to be busy all day with her science field trip, her closest group of friends were all off on some weekend road trip to Aspen that she hadn't been invited to, and she didn't dare text Kenny asking him for her normal hookup of weed with the whole Archive situation still up in the air. Exasperated, she flopped back into her massive pile of pillows and laundry that resided on her bed. She didn't want to just sit at home all day and feel miserable.

Bebe stood up, tromping around her room in her pajamas, searching for something to do. She'd already checked all of her social media a million times. Her closet had been severely picked through and she'd painted her nails twice in two different shades of nauseous bubblegum pink. Bored out of her mind, Bebe turned on her TV. Reruns of Friends were on. Maybe mind numbing television was just what she needed to distract herself from her lack of social life. As soon as she had settled back into bed with an open box of crackers and a half-empty water bottle, her phone went off, lost somewhere in her bedroom.

"Jesus Christ," she muttered bitterly, standing up off her mattress, "Just when I get comfortable someone has to call me."

It took a minute for her to find her phone in the mess. Eventually, she located it, hidden beneath a mountain of acetone-soaked cotton balls on her vanity. She checked the caller ID. It was Red. Red was supposed to be on that Aspen trip, so what was she doing calling Bebe? Shouldn't she be off skiing or flirting with cute bellhops at their hotel?

"Hey, Red," Bebe greeted, a hint of confusion in her voice. "Aren't you in Aspen right now?"

Red laughed a little bit. It was the relaxed laugh of a righteous teenage girl on vacation. "Yeah, we just got back from eating lunch so we're all kind of hanging out at the ski resort. Never guess what I forgot to tell you before we left."

"Annie got a nose job? Nichole finally learned how to get the deodorant stains out of her shirt? Lola discovered the secret to putting on eyeliner without looking like a crack whore raccoon?"

"We can only hope one day those things will be true," Red agreed, "But this is way more important."

Bebe rolled over on her bed, playing with her hair, the other hand holding her cell phone against her cheek. "Spill. Don't keep me in suspense."

There was the unmistakable sound of Red closing a door. The background noise had all but disappeared. Bebe was suddenly _way_ more intrigued. If Red had left a room to dish the gossip, it must've been one juicy rumor.

"Hold on a second, I'm trying to get far away from the hotel room so the other girls don't hear me. You know, it sucks that you couldn't come."

Bebe ground her teeth. _Yeah,_ she thought bitterly, _really sucks that you fake bitches didn't invite me._ "I know. Wish I could be there with you guys." The plastic, sugary sweet quality of her voice was unmistakable. Thankfully, Red didn't catch on.

"There's the _cutest_ ski instructor here. Milly got his number and they went out last night for hot chocolate. She came back and her lips were so swollen. I was like, 'Do you think we're all totally clueless?' She obviously went and made out with him. I don't think they had sex, though, Milly's too uptight for that."

Bebe nodded. "Yeah, you're right." She was secretly burning with jealousy. Bebe could've been the one to have exchanged stories of hooking up with the ski instructor back in the hotel room, cheeks still shining with after-sex glow.

Another door closed behind Red. "Okay, I'm in the gym. There's only one other person in here, and it's some fat guy running on the treadmill with his headphones in."

She was starting to feel even more irritated. Bebe didn't want a description of everything that was happening, she wanted the rumor or gossip or whatever information Red had as soon as possible. She didn't deal with suspense well. Bebe really needed to work on her patience.

"So what's the deal? What's so important it couldn't wait until school on Monday?"

Red made a giddy sound between a giggle and a squeal. "So you know how on Wednesday my mom picked me up early from cheer practice so I could get my hair done?"

"Yeah," Bebe urged, practically quivering with anticipation.

"My mom took me back into work – you know, she's a nurse at that little clinic on Main Street – because she forgot her purse. Anyway, while she was looking for it, I happened to glance over at her computer, and someone's test results were still open. Oh my God, Bebe, you should've been there. I'm still shook."

Bebe wished she could reach through her phone and strangle Red. She just wanted to know why she had called her in the first place. "Whose test results were they?"

"Clyde Donovan's. He'd gone into the clinic a few weeks ago to get an STD test done. That's not even the best part," Red dramatically paused to take a deep breath, "Clyde has _the clap_! He tested positive for gonorrhea!"

Under any other circumstances, Bebe would've been squealing with laughter and gleefully texting the cheer squad group chat with the information, but instead of excitement, she was feeling queasy and panicked. She'd just had _sex_ with him. Bebe had sex with a boy who had gonorrhea and he didn't even tell her beforehand. She was actually feeling a little violated. A small piece of her maybe even wanted to cry.

"Are you sure it was Clyde? Like, you're absolutely positive it was his test results you saw?"

Bebe could practically hear Red roll her eyes. "Duh. His name was printed right on the top. I know what I saw. Isn't that crazy, though?"

She swallowed hard, feeling a little dizzy. "Yeah. Wild."

"Oh, shit. My mom's calling me. She's probably trying to check up on us. I'll text you later. And remember – you didn't hear it from me."

Red hung up without warning, leaving Bebe's ears ringing. It took a few seconds for her news to really register with Bebe's groggy brain. Clyde Donovan had the clap. Bebe had sex with him. That meant she could have the clap, too. Why hadn't he told her? Did he think it was okay to leave out that tidbit of information just because they had used a condom? She wanted to be furious with him, but she wasn't. Against her will, a million irrational excuses for what he had done were piling up in her head.

Bebe crawled into her desk chair and turned on her laptop, doing a quick Google search for 'gonorrhea.' She drank in what she found bit by bit, trying to remain calm but failing to do so. By the time she was finished reading up on symptoms, she was sick to her stomach. Most of the time, people didn't even _show_ symptoms, so how was she supposed to know if she had it or not? Bebe was having trouble deciphering the swirling storm of emotions brewing in her mind. Was she pissed off or depressed? Was she on the brink of tears or ready to throw down with Clyde?

After a few moments of consideration, Bebe decided she'd like to physically fight Clyde as soon as possible. He had jeopardized her trust and her health just to get some ass. Forget her complicated puppy dog feelings – if he'd given her the clap, there was going to be hell to pay.

Bebe threw her hair into a sloppy ponytail and put on a bra underneath her South Park Cows sweatshirt. Once her toes had been stuffed into a suffocating pair of Uggs, she grabbed her Volkswagen keys off her dresser, thundering down the stairs and swinging her handbag over her shoulder. In the dining room clipping coupons, her mom called after her.

"Bebe, where are you going?"

She stopped in the entryway of the house, irritated. "Over to a friend's."

Her mom plucked her wire-trimmed reading glasses from her nose and gave her an up and down look. "You're leaving the house in _that_? You look like you just rolled out of bed."

Bebe glanced in the mirror hanging by the front door. It was true that she looked a little rough, but she couldn't care to take the time to look nice just to go get some answers.

"I don't care what I look like."

Mrs. Stevens raised her eyebrows and readjusted her glasses, looking at a Kohl's catalogue. "That much is obvious." She started to cut out another promotion and placed it in her coupon book. Sometimes, the little things her mom said got under her skin. "Be back before dinner, honey. We're having lasagna."

With a roll of her eyes, Bebe was out the door, climbing into her curb parked car. It took only minutes to find herself outside the Donovan house. The change in atmosphere from Friday night to Sunday morning was stark. Instead of the windows vibrating in their panes from the throbbing music, everything seemed deathly still. It was almost peaceful. That was about to change when Bebe marched in there to give Clyde a piece of her mind.

On her way out of her car, she slammed the door, her keys in her fist. She didn't bother to ring the doorbell and barreled right into the living room, where Clyde and his friends were watching a football game. Bebe realized as they all gawked at her that she really didn't have a plan as to what she was going to do once she got there. They seemed frozen in time until Clyde shot up from his seat on the couch with pink cheeks. His mouth was slightly open, like he wanted to ask her something but couldn't find the words.

"Bebe? What are you doing here?" Craig was the first one to actually speak in his usual monotone. He had his gangly legs sprawled across Tweek's lap. Not surprisingly, he seemed the least shocked to see her.

Tweek was playing something on his 3DS. His twitchy eyes were flickering back and forth from his screen to Bebe, like he couldn't decide which one was more important to focus on. Next to them, Token had donned a jersey for the occasion of watching the game, and had a mouthful of tortilla chips and queso. His jaw was still hanging open from the surprise of Bebe storming into their peaceful Sunday morning. She swallowed nervously.

"Clyde and I need to talk."

He looked terrified. _Good,_ Bebe thought menacingly, _he should be._

Clyde wiped his hands on his jeans. "Can it wait? We're a little busy."

"No, it can't wait. I need to talk to you _now._ " She tried to sound forceful but was borderline whiny.

The guys were all casting looks between each other that ranged from confused to knowing. Bebe wondered if Clyde had already told them the story of their sexcapade in his parents' bedroom – including all the parts where she cried and then he told her she acted like a total virgin. The mere thought caused the flames of anger to ignite in her brain again.

He ripped his eyes from his friends and then finally made eye contact with her. He caved. "Fine, let's go in the kitchen."

As soon as they had passed the threshold from the living room into the kitchen, Token, Craig, and Tweek began whispering like a group of teenage girls. Bebe's suspicions were confirmed. There was no way Clyde had slept with her and _hadn't_ blabbed to at least half the school by then.

Clyde leaned against the kitchen counter and tried but failed to look nonchalant. He oozed guilt. He was looking at everything but her.

"Red told me. About your test results from the clinic."

He let out a long, tired breath. "Yeah. I kind of figured you had found out somehow."

"Well," Bebe bit her lip, knitting her eyebrows together, "Why didn't you tell me? We had… _sex._ "

Clyde pushed away from the counter and paced toward the sliding glass doors that led to his backyard. The pool cover was back on. Bebe could vaguely see the muggy expression on his face in his reflection. There was a strange mixture of emotions on his face. Mainly, he looked like he'd just smelled Stan's cleats after football practice. After watching a flurry of snow dance across the plastic cover over the pool, Clyde gave a wry smile.

"I wasn't exactly thinking, 'Hey, before I fuck this girl, I'm going to tell her I got the clap.'"

Bebe dug her long fingernails into her palms to keep from screaming. She needed to be level headed until he gave her a good enough reason to lose it. "Even though we used protection you needed to tell me. Not telling someone something like that…." She grimaced and ran her hands over her face.

"About that," Clyde sheepishly said, slowly turning to face her and rubbing the back of his neck, "I don't think I had it on."

The color slipped from Bebe's face and plopped right into a heavy ball in her gut. Was this going to be her reason for being imprisoned for murder? "You don't think you had it on _right_ or you didn't have it on at _all_?" She could vividly picture driving a knife into his chest. Her fingers lingered dangerously near the knife block on the counter behind her.

He swallowed once, twice, three times and then twisted up his face. "I was really drunk. It was slippery, and I couldn't really get it on, and you only looked for a second so I just kind of threw it on the floor." Clyde wouldn't stop wringing his hands.

"You _what_?" Bebe shrieked.

In the living room, things went silent. Clyde cast a panicked look toward the couch, where Bebe was sure all of his friends were ogling like wide eyed owls. She struggled to catch her breath. Her body had gone cold and clammy, yet the fury was burning brighter than ever.

"That's – that's like _rape,_ Clyde!"

He held up his hands in a weak attempt to sedate her. "Stop yelling. I didn't know what I was doing, I was drunk," he begged, voice slowly crawling higher and higher.

The ground felt like it was swirling. Bebe found herself wishing she was in one really bad dream. She felt...dirty. Violated, even. A bit like a spent prostitute might feel. Clyde cemented the fact that she was in her own hellish reality by putting a hand on her arm. She shoved away from his touch angrily.

Her ponytail swished against her neck when she shook her head violently. " _Don't_ touch me. Don't even fucking look at me, you asshole." Her voice was a deep whisper, dropping off as her throat was clenched in a vice. "And don't even think of talking to me at school."

"Bebe," Clyde began, but she didn't let him finish.

She closed her eyes to try and steady Clyde's rocking kitchen. "I – I could've gotten pregnant. What the fuck is wrong with you?"

He let out a little breath that could've been mistaken for a chuckle. "I remembered from when we were dating that you were on the pill."

"I could've stopped taking it. You didn't know. You couldn't have known for sure. You didn't ask."

He shook his head and did a subtle eye roll. "Please. Like _you_ would stop taking birth control."

Bebe readjusted her purse on her shoulder, turning on her heel to leave the room. She was done talking to him. The excuses she'd made up before were light years away, laughing at her from their place on Pluto. How outlandish had she sounded trying to excuse what he had done? Clyde gave an exasperated sigh behind her and began to follow, but she turned around once they had stopped square in front of the TV. Token was pissed. He stretched his neck out to see behind Bebe's massive ass.

"I'm sorry. Everything I said is wrong." Clyde tried and failed to make a decent apology.

He tried to put his hands on her shoulders again. Bebe squared her arms and shoved him as hard as she could. He winced, tripping backward a few steps, and caught his balance on the armchair where Token was sitting. Clyde rubbed where Bebe had pushed him while she tried to think of something poisonous to leave him with. His eyes were both hurt and angry.

She looked down on him like a queen would glare down on a peasant. "You know what was _really_ wrong? That I lowered myself enough to let you fuck me."

Craig whistled. Tweek gave a little giggle and bit his fist to keep himself from laughing when Clyde shot him a venomous look. Token managed to rip his eyes from the TV one last time to stare slack-jawed at Bebe as she shook her head, making her way out of Clyde's house.

Bebe climbed into her car. In the creepy still silence of her Beetle, she tried to gather what had just happened. She had unprotected sex with a kid who had gonorrhea. How was she supposed to go home, face her mother, and tell her that she'd been right all along? Her parents were going to have a field day complete with an 'I Told You So' musical number once they found out. Just the mere thought of trying to sit her mom down at the kitchen table to tell her she needed STD testing left a sour taste in Bebe's mouth. Worst of all, Clyde's friends had heard their entire altercation. Did they know that Clyde had the clap? Did they know Bebe could've caught it too? With nowhere to turn, Bebe did what all desperate teenage girls did – called her best friend.

The phone went to voicemail. Wendy must've been still giving her presentation. Bebe was feeling more depressed by the second.

"Hey, Wendy. I really need to talk to you. Whenever you're done doing whatever nerd crap you're doing please call me. I need my best friend. Bye."

She hung up and waited a while to see if Wendy would call her back. After seven minutes, Bebe sighed, and drove home. Even when her mom asked her how everything was, she forced a smile and lied. According to Bebe, everything was just peachy.

* * *

Hope you enjoyed it! Sorry this one was a little late. It was prom weekend and I had a lot of plans and painstaking beauty regimens to keep up with. There's going to be a lot more action happening in the story now. Make sure you read, review, follow, favorite, whatever. Thanks to everyone who has given this story a little love! See you next week.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five**

Wendy and Kyle weren't allowed to share a hotel room at the science convention, but she sat on his bed anyway, still decked out in her pantsuit, squeezing a pillow over her crossed legs. She had long since lost her blazer and the sight of her smooth back exposed plainly for Kyle's eyes to see was distracting him a little bit. Butters was singing in the bathroom, his voice enough to fill the silent void between them. Wendy was bouncing one of her folded knees.

Kyle handed her one of the paper cups of tasteless hotel coffee. She took it with a thankful nod, eyes still glued forward. She didn't even notice when the scalding liquid burned her tongue. She was too preoccupied with worrying about the results of their presentation. They both knew that winning first place in that competition was the key to landing spots at their dream colleges.

Wendy had her sights set on Harvard, whereas Kyle was leaning toward MIT. If they got to move on to nationals, then they were at least guaranteed a place on the waitlist. Both of them had stellar GPAs, an AP schedule that would make the average student blanch, and the extracurricular schedule of a god. Not to mention both of them had recently spent a summer helping underprivileged youth in North Park. The Ivy Leagues wouldn't seem so far away if they could just win first place. It would mean all of their hard work had been worth it.

Butters came out of the bathroom and blinked at Kyle and Wendy, who were both sedately staring off into space.

"Are you two feelin' all right?" He asked, climbing into bed and pulling out his pink and white 3DS. "You look a little sick."

Wendy shook herself out of her stupor. "Just thinking about the results, is all."

"Everyone knows you two had the best project," Butters stated matter-of-factly, "everyone else's looked like jokes compared to yours."

"Thanks, Butters," Kyle said monotonously, sipping his disgusting coffee.

The blond boy nodded cheerfully. "I know you'll win first place for sure."

Wendy swung her legs over the edge of Kyle's bed, standing up and swinging her blazer back on. "You know what I need?" She stepped into her low heels, looking the spitting image of a lawyer, "I need a nice walk to clear my head."

"Me, too," Kyle sighed, redoing the top buttons on his shirt. "I'm making myself miserable just sitting here."

They began to make their way toward the hotel room door. Kyle grabbed a room key on the way out. Butters called after them.

"Have fun, guys!"

It was chillier outside than either one of them expected. Wendy crossed her arms over her chest and stuffed her hands into the warmth of her armpits. Kyle tried to give her his suit jacket, but she pushed it back toward him.

"Thanks, but I'll be fine."

They began walking down the snow-dusted sidewalk, admiring the quietness of a town in winter. Soon enough, Christmas break would be upon them, and they'd be able to start volunteering at soup kitchens again. Last year, she remembered being able to really talk to Kyle for the first time whenever they began ladling out chicken noodle to the homeless. Now things were just complicated, what with her dating his best friend and not being able to stop herself from getting butterflies in her chest whenever she saw him. She blew a frustrated breath of mist into the frigid air.

"You okay?"

She nodded and then shook her head. "Just have a lot on my mind, I guess. I'm thinking about how I'm basically carrying Bebe's ass in AP Chem right now, and how I need this first place win to get into Harvard, and Stan."

Kyle swallowed, his eyes beginning to bulge from their sockets. "Stan?"

"Yeah," she brushed her hair behind her ear, "we've just been on different planets recently. I'm a little more invested in thinking about my future than other kids our age, but Stan doesn't care at all. He thinks he can get into any school he wants on a football scholarship."

"Well, to be fair, he probably could."

That was apparently the wrong thing to say. Wendy rolled her fair brown eyes. "He _probably_ could if he actually put any effort into his schoolwork. All he cares about is…is smoking pot and playing Xbox. It isn't the fifties anymore, being a good football player just isn't enough to get into college."

Kyle actually agreed with Wendy. Sure, Stan was handsome and popular, and the best football player in their district, but without the grades to get into a state school, he was pretty screwed. Kyle knew he wanted to go to MIT for engineering. He knew Wendy wanted to go to Harvard for law or political science. What did Stan even want to _do_? It wasn't like he could make a profit on smoking from a bong while playing Borderlands all day.

"I could always try talking to him about it. I think he doesn't try very hard because he doesn't know what he wants to do after high school. It _is_ kind of scary to think about."

They approached a frozen over pond with a frosty gazebo resting under the shade of a hibernating weeping willow. The park was quiet, with only an elderly couple watching the glistening ice of the pond from a bench. They looked serene.

Wendy and Kyle climbed up into the gazebo and enjoyed the view of the dormant park.

"And I know it's scary," she continued, "but he's not going to get over his fear of growing up by ignoring it."

He nodded in agreement, watching as she chewed her thumbnail down to a nub in concerned thought. "Just give him a little more time. If he isn't in shape by next semester I can start tutoring him or something."

Wendy gave him a forced smile. "Thanks. You know, you're pretty mature for a teenage boy."

Kyle couldn't help but chuckle.

Flurries of snow began to fall. Wendy was shivering, her nose shiny and red. Kyle was near frozen to the bone but offered her his jacket anyway. She took it gratefully. It was a little strange to see his best friend's girlfriend wearing his jacket, but the sight of her petite frame in his big-shouldered coat pulled on his heartstrings. He had the instinctive feeling to protect her.

"We should get back to the hotel," he blurted, watching the old couple get up and walk over to their sedan, "it's freezing out here."

As Kyle went to walk away, Wendy grabbed onto the sleeve of his dress shirt. He turned around and began to feel a bit warmer. She looked pretty, even with her raw cheeks and sniffling nose. Her eyes had begun to water from the cold wind.

"Stay with me for a second and watch the snow."

He took a few backwards steps into the gazebo, standing next to Wendy as they watched the snow begin to cover the earth in a second coat of white. The sedan drove away, leaving the landscape around them completely silent. It was the kind of beautiful moment that made someone take a step back and appreciate life. He could feel Wendy watching him. He looked down at her, their faces dangerously close. Her breath cascaded against his lips like a rush of warm relief. Wendy had never noticed how startlingly green Kyle's eyes were before. His breath smelled like cinnamon gum. They began to inch closer, and closer….

" _Guys!_ " Butters screamed, running at them in his bright blue coat, "Guys! Guess what!"

Wendy and Kyle cleared their throats, taking gigantic steps away from each other so they ran into the railing on either side of the gazebo. If Wendy's cheeks weren't red before, they certainly were after being that close to kissing Kyle. Her head was spinning like a top. What was she _thinking_?

Butters approached them on stumbling legs, waving a sheet of paper in the air. He collapsed in front of them, doubled over with his hands on his knees. It took him a moment to catch his breath in the freezing air.

"What is it, Butters?" Kyle asked, trying to act nonchalant.

Wendy was making it a point not to look at him. She watched a snow white rabbit carve a path through the snow. There was a full-fledged war happening in her brain. How had she almost kissed her boyfriend's best friend? She was so much more rational than that. Her behavior was reminding her of Bebe.

The blond gasped for air, wiping off an accumulation of sweat off his forehead with his cherry red mittens. "I told you that you guys were going to do a good job," Butters said, handing them the sheet of paper.

Kyle was the first to take it. It took him a while to register what he was reading.

 _Thank you for participating in Youth Scientists of America's eleventh annual Science Convention in the state of Colorado. The competition this year was spectacular. Here are the results from the 61 schools and 152 contestants that provided presentations. We would like to remind club sponsors that first place, first runner up, and second runner up will move onto nationals in Los Angeles, California. Plaques and medals will be delivered to the schools that participated within five (5) business days._

 _FIRST PLACE_

 _Kyle Broflovski and Wendy Testaburger, South Park High School_

He stopped reading and did a double take, drinking in each word slowly. His whole body felt like it had been submerged in formaldehyde. They won. Kyle and Wendy had won. He could feel a wide grin spreading across his face like an unstoppable chemical reaction. In his joy and relief, he began laughing hysterically, showing the letter to Wendy. She took it, devouring the page, and turned to look at Kyle with bright eyes. Her hands were shaking from excitement instead of cold.

"We won! We did it!"

Kyle couldn't help himself. He gathered Wendy into his arms, swinging her around like she was a ragdoll. Her squeal of fright soon turned into peals of ecstatic laughter. They were so loud they scared a family of birds out of a nearby tree. He set Wendy down, squeezing her arms so hard he would probably leave bruises. She didn't care. Her whole body was like lightning all over from excitement. Harvard and MIT were within arm's reach. Witness to the event, Butters kicked the ground miserably.

"All right, now, don't gloat so much. I only placed twenty second." He jutted out his bottom lip in a pout.

Kyle ran at Butters and spun him in the air, too. Butters was grinning even if he didn't want to. "Butters, that's amazing!" The redhead gushed, taking the paper from Wendy. He left big wrinkles in the paper as he stabbed the name _Leopold Stotch_ over and over with his finger. "See this? One _hundred_ and fifty two competitors! And you got twenty second place!"

Butters suppressed a smile, cheeks pink. "Well, when you put it that way, it doesn't sound so bad."

"I can't believe it," Wendy said, squeezing her hands tight. "If we win nationals – Kyle, we can get into any school in the _country_!"

"In the world, Wendy. Any school in the entire God damned world."

In the exhilaration of the moment, both had forgotten they had just tried to kiss each other only moments before. Butters took them both back to the hotel, where their teary-eyed club sponsor took them to Shakey's for celebratory pizza. It wasn't until they were back on the bus, still tingling with the delight of their win, that they suddenly remembered. They kept their eyes trained on their phone screens the entire way home. Suddenly, Wendy wasn't so ready to gloat to Stan. When he asked her how it went, Wendy told him everything - except for the part where she had puckered her lips to his best friend.

* * *

Detention was one of the many things about high school Bebe loathed. Along with exams, bitchy back-handed comments in the locker room, and sweating her ass off to fit into her cheer uniform, she couldn't wait to graduate and leave all of it behind her. Despite not being particularly inclined toward keeping up a perfect attendance record, she rarely skipped class. Usually, she had cheer practice or math tutoring after school, and her parents would kill her if she missed any extracurriculars.

She'd only decided to ditch because Nichole's parents bought her a new Fiat and all the girls went out to the mall to celebrate – save Wendy. Wendy would rather drink arsenic than skip school. Unfortunately they decided to make a pit stop to Chipotle on the way, running into the security guard on his day off. They were dragged into the principal's office like regular criminals. Their punishment? An entire week of detention. That Monday was the first time Bebe had to stay after, and she'd been ordered to scrape gum from the auditorium seats. With a paint scraper shoved into one hand and a bucket shoved into the other, she marched her sorry ass right into the auditorium, hating her existence.

The students of South Park High _really_ loved their gum. As she wedged the metal plate between the seat and a pile of bubblegum, Bebe was wishing she was anywhere but laying on the cold, dirty floor. Resigned to her fate, she pressed her headphones into her ears, trying to cheer herself up by listening to some music.

Before long, she was singing along, careful to keep clear of any stray pieces of gum in case they fell into her open mouth. She'd made it down half the seats within an hour. Music always made the time go faster. Her bucket held an impressive – yet disgusting – collection of rainbow blobs.

Kenny spent a lot of his time in the auditorium. Be it rehearsal, drama club meetings, or even just sneaking in after school to smoke a little pot with some of his theatre buddies, the stage had quickly become his second home – maybe even his first home, since he wasn't too fond of his folks. He'd left his hoodie backstage ages ago and finally remembered to grab it before going home that day. He whistled the music to _Little Shop of Horrors_ cheerfully as he swung open the doors to the auditorium, striding down the aisle with his long legs. His whistling and his feet came to an abrupt halt as his ears perked up at the sound of angelic singing. _Whoa._ Kenny stopped to listen, lips parted in awe. Whoever was singing was amazing.

It sounded like it was coming from the middle of the room, but there was no one there from what he could see. The thought of ghosts passed through his mind for a second. He wondered why he had never heard that voice before. With a voice like that, they'd make the perfect lead in a musical. Kenny felt his feet being pulled by curiosity toward the source of the singing. He almost walked all the way around the auditorium before he saw a pair of criminally pink Uggs peeking out from underneath the seats. He followed the shapely legs up to a head of frizzy curls.

"Bebe?"

She must've had her headphones in. He shuffled along the rows of seats, getting closer to hear so she could hear him. Bebe was getting _really_ into her music. She belted out an impossibly pure note and Kenny felt his skin erupt in goosebumps. Who knew that Bebe Stevens had the voice of a pop icon?

He leaned over her, trying to crane his neck so she could see him. Kenny prodded her knee with his finger. She screamed in shock, reflexively leaping up. He yelled when he saw the gum scraper make direct contact with her temple. He swore he saw the metal edge break skin. Her eyes clamped shut in pain and she let out a colorful string of curse words.

"Fuck! Ow, shit, _fuck,_ ow – ow, holy shit, that hurts like a motherfucker – _why_ did you sneak up on me, you asshole?"

Kenny grimaced when he saw the shallow cut begin to ooze blood. Bebe's eyes were starting to tear up. She maneuvered herself from under the seat, standing up on wobbly legs. Her face was flushed from pain. Kenny reached out an arm to brace her.

"I'm sorry," he gushed, watching as a scarlet line of blood slid down the side of her face, "I didn't mean to scare you. Jesus, that looks bad."

She rolled her eyes, dropping her bucket and scraper, clamping a hand over her wound. "Well, I stabbed myself with a fucking gum scraper, so it's probably infected, too."

Bebe tried to push past him, cheeks going scarlet as she realized he'd barged right in on her belting session. She wanted to scream. No one heard her sing, _ever._ Not even Wendy or her parents. She liked singing but it was something she was comfortable keeping to herself. The fact that Kenny was the first one to hear her sing put a bad taste in her mouth – he'd seen her naked, he'd heard her sing – next thing Bebe knew, they'd be married.

Kenny scrambled after her, trying to reach out tender hands to hold her steady. She'd hit her head pretty hard.

"Let me take you to the nurse. You're falling all over the place."

Bebe pushed him away again, blinking away the blood that trickled into her eyelashes. "I'll be fine," she insisted, stumbling into the doors that led out to the hallway.

Kenny jumped forward to catch her. Bebe wished he would just stop _touching_ her. The fact that one of the only boys who'd ever seen her naked had his hands on her was making her even dizzier than the goose egg forming on her head.

"No, you're not. You're all dizzy and stuff. Just let me walk you down to the nurse and then I'll leave you alone."

She sighed through her teeth. "Fine. Don't get too handsy."

He scooped an arm up under her armpit, forcing her to lean on him with her arm around his shoulders. Last time Bebe checked, that was pretty much the textbook definition of getting handsy. He reeked of cigarettes and the faint smell of lingering weed.

"You've got a pretty good set of pipes." The compliment didn't seem to do her voice justice, but Kenny wasn't sure Bebe wanted to be showered with praises when her head was gushing blood.

Of course he had to bring it up to make her even more embarrassed than she already was. Bebe looked away from him, trying to hide her pink cheeks. "I don't sing in front of people."

Kenny gave her a dazzling grin. "Really? That's a shame. A voice like that needs to be shared."

"If you're trying to get me to join your stupid musical, then I'm not going to," Bebe deadpanned.

He dropped the subject and his handsome smile immediately. They were already outside the nurse's office. Thankfully the school nurse hadn't gone home yet. Once she saw Bebe clutching her bloodied fingers to her head, she dropped her clipboard and came running over with worried eyes. The smell of disinfectant only made Bebe woozier. The nurse took Bebe from Kenny and helped her into a separate room with an examination table. Kenny followed along like a trained puppy. He only hoped he wasn't in the way.

"Oh, dear," she mumbled, painted lips pursed, "How did this happen?"

Kenny spoke for Bebe. "She was getting gum off the seats in the auditorium and I scared her. She cut herself with the scraper."

The nurse clucked her tongue and walked back into the other room to a cabinet, where she started filling a metal tray with medical supplies. Bebe was staring at Kenny rather intently for someone with head trauma. He cocked his head to the side and she blinked, throwing her gaze to a plastic skeleton in the corner of the room.

"Oh," Kenny realized, wondering why he hadn't made the connection earlier, "I forgot things are supposed to be weird between us because you accidentally sent me that picture."

Bebe inflated with an embarrassed breath. "Yeah."

Before anything more could be said, the nurse came back in with a pair of lavender purple plastic gloves on. Her metal tray was full of all kinds of sterile cotton pads and iodine.

"All right, let's see that cut, sweetie."

It took a long time for the nurse to finish cleaning up the wound. Thankfully it wasn't too deep and after the nurse thoroughly checked Bebe's response times and shined a flashlight in her eyes, she nodded satisfactorily. She swiped one last disinfecting wipe across the cut, causing Bebe to wince, and sealed it up with butterfly bandages. The nurse nodded again, patting Bebe on her hand.

"Well, you're not concussed, and the cut wasn't deep enough to need stitches. But I'm still going to send you home with a note for your parents saying you should check up on how this is healing with your general practitioner. Avoid putting makeup on it or getting shampoo in it for a while, all right?"

Bebe couldn't imagine not caking her face in foundation. She paled at the thought. "Okay. But I'm still a little dizzy."

"Probably because you were laying down so long and stood up suddenly. Have a little snack and some water and you should feel a lot better."

The nurse left to write up a note on her computer. Bebe gently touched the bandages on her forehead. She looked at Kenny hopefully.

"Does it look horrible? Is it really big?"

He shook his head. "No. You look fine." He actually thought she looked kind of cute all flushed with her lips in a sultry pout. Suddenly uncomfortable at the intrusive thought, he cleared his throat.

The blonde sighed and resumed looking at the skeleton. "You didn't have to stay here while she did all that, you know."

Kenny tried to smile. "Yeah, I know. But I felt a little guilty since I'm the reason you gashed your head open in the first place."

Bebe took a moment to swallow and gather herself together enough to ask her next question. "What are you going to do with my nude?"

The question caught Kenny off guard. He sucked in his bottom lip and sank his teeth into it. He really hoped she wouldn't ask him that. To tell the truth, he had no clue what he was going to do with it. It was stored safely in the camera roll of his phone. He could've put it in The Archive that Friday when he'd received it, yet days had passed and he spent a good ten minutes before bed each night twirling his phone in his hands and pondering the fate of Bebe. Plenty of girls just like her were already in The Archive – Tammy Warner, Sally Darson, and other confirmed sluts – Kenny had never thought twice about loading _their_ nudes into Google Drive. Maybe it was because he'd known Bebe so long and she was friends with Wendy. It would be really messed up to put the nudes of his best bro's girlfriend's best friend online, right? _Right._ He was barely convincing himself.

Kenny sighed and slapped his hands on his thighs with an unsatisfied sigh. "Dunno."

She frowned and bounced her leg. "I was kind of hoping you'd give me a better answer than that."

"We can't always get what we want."

He didn't mean to sound like such a dick but it certainly came out that way. The nurse entered the room again and handed Bebe a folded sheet of paper. She sent them away with a pat on the head and a lollipop each. On their way back to the auditorium, Kenny and Bebe were silent, each thinking of The Archive. Bebe wanted anything but to be one of _those_ girls. She'd already lost her virginity, sent her first nude, and probably gotten the clap in the same weekend. She couldn't imagine having to explain to her parents that she provided child porn to the entire community of South Park High School on top of the rest of her disappointments.

Bebe swung her sequined backpack over her shoulder, casting a disdainful look toward the abandoned bucket and scraper. Kenny grabbed his hoodie off a stray table and threw it over his arm. Neither one of them said anything. Bebe opted to look at a map of the school tacked to the wall. The crickets were playing a symphony. Kenny was the first to speak up.

"You know, you really are a good singer."

She blushed again and shook her head. "Whatever."

Kenny took a step toward her. "I'm serious, Bebe. You should really audition for the musical. You'd totally get the lead."

"I'm good, thanks." She put up her hands to keep him from stepping any closer. "I have enough to worry about with being cheer captain."

That statement was only partly true. The cheer squad was known for notoriously unproductive practices and poor performances at sporting events. Most of their time after school was spent filing nails and running half-hearted laps around the track.

A sudden idea struck Kenny. The longer he thought about it, the saner it sounded in his head. He licked his lips, trying to figure out the best way to word what he was about to say. He'd never been very good with tact.

"If you audition I won't put your nude in The Archive."

Bebe's eyes widened. She swore for a second her heart stopped beating and she coughed uncomfortably, forcing the cut in her forehead to throb. She was pretty sure making a deal that sounded like borderline blackmail was one of the life lessons she learned from _Rumpelstiltskin_ and _The Little Mermaid_. She took a few seconds to think about it, chewing on her lip. Audition for one lame musical and never have anyone see her nudes, or save her time and energy but risk being reported to the police for child pornography and have her best friend arrested for being an accessory to her crime. It was pretty clear to Bebe which was the better of the two options, but the thought of getting up on stage and singing in front of hundreds of people had her stomach twisting into knots.

She frowned. "I don't know. I've never sang in front of anyone before. I'd make an ass out of myself." She was wringing her hands like they were sweaty rags.

"You've sang in front of me. And trust me, with a voice like yours, no one is going to be able to say one bad thing about you."

Kenny could be very convincing when he wanted to be, with his clear blue eyes and charmingly handsome face. Bebe weighed the options in her head. Worst case scenario she auditioned for the musical, embarrassed herself in front of some dorky theatre kids, didn't make the cast list, and Kenny didn't put her nudes in The Archive. Was there a best case scenario? Sure, she could discover a passion for acting and land the leading role, but could she ever get over her stage fright? She sighed again, pulling a face. She was put into a spot that no matter what she said she was going to dislike the outcome. In one decisive movement, she stuck out a manicured hand, making fierce eye contact with Kenny.

"All right," she said firmly, "you have yourself a deal."

* * *

This is the most regularly I've ever updated a fic. I appreciate the support you guys are giving me, you have no idea how happy it makes me when I come home from school and see all of your amazing reviews waiting for me! It really motivates me to write more, so thank you for all that have been giving me feedback. Follow, favorite, review, and I'll see you next week for chapter six.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter Six**

A few days later, Bebe's mom was enjoying a glass of red wine while she flipped through a cookbook in the kitchen. Bebe had been watching her for at least three entire minutes, leaning against the entryway to the kitchen and fiddling with the large scab on her forehead, wondering how to word exactly what she was going to say. ' _Hey, mom, you know – you were right. I went out and had sex with a boy who might have given me gonorrhea. Can you take me to Planned Parenthood?_ ' She had a feeling that wouldn't go over too well. Her mom flipped another page, dog-earing it with her long fingernails. She spoke suddenly and made Bebe jump.

"What's wrong, honey? You've been standing there for a while."

Mrs. Stevens closed her cookbook, titled _'The Hot Mom Diet Plan – 30 Days to Looking Like Your Younger Self.'_ Her thinly plucked eyebrows were raised in concern and curiosity. It was hard to imagine Bebe's mom as being _hot._ Sure, she was a knockout when she was younger, but years of box wine and smoking menthols had taken a toll on her formerly golden skin. Instead of having the curves of a model, Bebe's mom instead resembled a lumpy garbage bag, complete with a saggy, sad rack. Her boobs looked like the floppy jowls of Wendy's basset hound. Bebe paled at the thought of looking like her mom when she was older.

Bebe's mom went to the fridge and began pulling out fresh groceries. "Are you going to say anything or just stare at me?" A bag of kale was tossed on the counter.

"Mom, I had sex without a condom and the boy that I had sex with mighthavegivenmetheclap," Bebe cried, burying her face in her hands and trying to keep herself from crying. "I don't know what to do!" She wailed, legs going out from under her. The kitchen floor was cold through her leggings.

Mrs. Stevens threw a plastic bag of tomatoes on the counter and helped her daughter back on her feet. Gently, she led Bebe to the stool at the kitchen island, rubbing her back. "What did you say, honey?"

Bebe threw her head down on the granite counter, causing the scab on her forehead to prickle with pain. "I think I got gonorrhea from a boy at school."

Bebe's mom choked and took a desperate chug of her wine. "You…you _what_?"

"Mom, please don't freak out," Bebe begged, grabbing her mom's pudgy hands, "I'm really scared. Please don't do that thing where you're calm at first and then you start screaming."

"I never do that," Bebe's mom said haughtily, rapping her long nails on the counter.

The blonde girl rolled her eyes and ran her hands through her hair desperately. "I need to go to Planned Parenthood and take a test and get treatment if I _did_ get it from him."

Mrs. Stevens was trying to no avail to calmly prepare dinner. Her hands were shaking as she started to dice cubes of sweaty tofu. "Of course you do, sweetie," her pitchy voice was high, "but who did you sleep with? When did this happen?"

She wasn't feeling particularly inclined to relive one of the worst nights of her life, but told her mom everything anyway. "It was at that party I went to last week. Clyde had texted me earlier and asked me to come over. At first, I blew him off, and then I decided to go anyway – because, well – it doesn't matter. I had a condom, mom, I was _trying_ to be safe, but he didn't put it on and I didn't notice. Then Red called me and told me she saw his test results at the clinic where her mom works, and Clyde had tested positive for gonorrhea. Whenever I talked to him he told me that he was too drunk to figure out how to put it on or tell me before we had… _sex._ " The last word was a whisper.

Her mom was gripping her knife so hard her knuckles had gone wool white. "Are you still taking your birth control?"

Bebe's cheeks were slowly flooding with color. She didn't realize how embarrassing it was to talk about that kind of stuff with parents. "Yes, I'm still taking it. I'm not pregnant or anything."

"Well thank God for that," Mrs. Stevens said, clipping the end of each word so they were crisp, driving the knife through the middle of a tomato, "that's one less thing to worry about. Does daddy know about this?"

"No, I haven't told _dad_ ," Bebe responded forcefully. She wasn't a little kid anymore and she knew how weird it was for her mom to reference her father as 'daddy.'

Mrs. Stevens gave a quick sigh before tossing her tofu and tomatoes into a big, glass bowl. "Honey! Get in here!" She shouted toward the living room, her voice carrying all the way up the stairs.

Bebe's jaw dropped. "Mom! What the _fuck_! I don't want to tell dad!" She had a silent battle of violent eye contact with her mom before her father came into the kitchen.

He looked tired, like he'd been grading essays again. He pulled his glasses from the top of his head and put them back on the bridge of his nose, looking at his family disdainfully. "What do my girls need now?" He sounded like he always did when he was about to fight with Bebe's mom.

"Bebe has something she wants to tell you." Mrs. Stevens crossed her arms and tightened her wrinkly lips, resembling a lizard who had discovered Sephora.

Bebe clenched her fists. "No, I _don't,_ " she hissed through her teeth, throwing her mom another icy look.

"What happened this time? Did you get detention again?" Instead of sounding disappointed, Mr. Stevens just sounded exhausted.

Bebe's mom gave a condescending laugh. "No, it's a little worse than that."

Her dad crossed his arms and looked at his wristwatch. "Can we hurry this up, please? Grades are due tomorrow and I'm behind on these papers. Just tell me, Bebe. I don't have time for this little game your mom likes to play."

Mrs. Stevens set down her knife, putting her hands on her hips and looking at her husband incredulously. "Really? I like to play games?" She gave a high-pitched laugh and went back to angrily dicing vegetables, shaking her head in disbelief.

He rolled his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Jesus, honey, let's not do this right now. I don't have the energy."

Bebe's mom set down the knife and finished her glass of wine. "I don't have the energy to cook dinner for you and our daughter, but here I am, cooking dinner."

"Really? We're doing this right now. Right in front of Bebe. _Real_ mature."

Bebe rolled her eyes as her parents continued to fight. She watched her mom fill up her glass of wine again. She absentmindedly wondered what her blood alcohol level was.

He grabbed the bottle from her mom. "No more wine! You always get pissy when you drink!"

"I'll drink all the wine I want!" She snatched the bottle back and took a big swig from it. "I'm the one who _bought_ it!"

"With my paychecks! I don't see you earning enough to buy all of your makeup and handbags with the money you make selling Mary Kay!"

Bebe had had enough of her parents bickering. She pushed her stool back from the island and stood between them, grabbing the bottle of wine and setting it down on the counter. Before her mom could speak, Bebe opened her mouth. "I think a boy I had sex with gave me the clap. Happy now?" Her last sentence was aimed toward her mother, who was now practically boiling.

"You had sex? And – the clap? _Gonorrhea_? Bebe Stevens!" Her father looked absolutely horrified. He clutched at his heart through his dress shirt.

Mrs. Stevens continued chopping lopsided cubes of vegan foods, making a mess each time she drove the blade of the knife through whatever vegetable she was preparing. "From the Donavan's boy, Clyde. They were drunk, apparently."

Mr. Stevens shook his head and clucked his tongue in that fatherly way that got under Bebe's skin. "If only Betsy were still here. Maybe she could talk some sense into that boy."

"He's not the only one at fault," Bebe reminded them, "I'm the one who went over there and let him fuck me."

"Language!" Her parents barked in unison. Bebe was glad to see they could both get along if they were yelling at her.

She rolled her eyes and sat back down at the kitchen island, watching her mom angrily toss a salad with a pair of tongs. Her dad sighed and leaned against the fridge, eyebrows growing closer and closer together until his face was bright red.

"I can't believe you. You're seventeen years old and you're going off getting drunk and having unprotected sex with boys."

"I know," Mrs. Stevens chided, coating the salad in Green Goddess dressing, "I know."

Her dad slammed his fist into his open palm. "That's it. You're _grounded,_ young lady."

"What? You can't ground me! I might not even have the clap!" She couldn't believe her ears.

Mr. Stevens gave Bebe a dangerous look. "I'm your father and I will ground you if you like it or not. I don't care if you have an STD. You betrayed your parents' trust and had unprotected sex. You aren't leaving this house for anything but school and cheer practice from here on out." He looked for other things to tack on to his punishment. "And no more phone. Hand it over. Understand me?" His eyes were cold.

She handed him her cell phone, suddenly inhaling as she remembered the deal she made with Kenny. "No! I _have_ to audition for the musical. You can't do this to me!"

"Not a chance. I have your coach's phone number, too, so don't even try saying you have cheer practice after school so you can stay for auditions."

She buried her face in her hands, trying to fight the emotional breakdown that was sure to come. If they reacted that way after all Bebe wanted was for them to take her to a clinic, how would they react if she told them her fate as a popular girl was riding on those auditions because she had sent a nude to the wrong person? She let out a single sob. She felt like the past week had been one long nightmare that she would never wake up from.

"Don't pull those alligator tears on me, Bebe," her father warned. "That may have worked when you were little but it won't work now."

Bebe removed her hands and revealed a cherry red face streaked with tears and salty snot running into her open mouth. "This isn't _fair_!"

Mrs. Stevens rolled her eyes. "Calm down, honey, it isn't the end of the world. It's one musical."

"But – but…ugh, you guys just don't understand!" She sobbed miserably, letting the tears and boogers run freely.

"Pull yourself together, sweetie." Mr. Stevens was beginning to feel a little guilty. He gave Bebe a forced smile. "I'll tell you what. Wendy can still come over tonight, okay?"

Bebe didn't care if Wendy could come over. Wendy wasn't going to be able to save her from having her nudes sent to every horny little boy in the county. She didn't have anything else to say to her parents. She stormed upstairs, wailing all the way, and slammed her bedroom door shut. After she had thrown herself into her bedspread her mom screamed at her from downstairs.

"Don't slam your door, young lady!"

She answered with a long, guttural groan, burying her wet face into her pillow. There was nothing her parents or Wendy could say or do that would make the situation any better. She was going to be an Archive girl. With her luck, she'd probably test positive for gonorrhea, too. Her life was beginning to feel like one long series of mistakes. All she wanted was to close her eyes and wake up in the morning with no Archive, no nudes, no angry parents, and no gonorrhea. Was that too much to ask? As Bebe fell asleep, she figured it probably was.

* * *

"Bebe, wake up. I got you Chipotle."

Was this Heaven? She'd never heard anything so perfect in her life. Bebe opened her eyes, crusted together with salt from her tears, blinking away the blurriness as her best friend came into focus. She had one silver-wrapped burrito in her left hand, a soda in the other. The glow of Bebe's lamp behind Wendy's body made her look like she was glowing.

"Are you an angel?"

Wendy handed Bebe the goods, rolling her eyes. "No. I'm the burrito delivery girl."

"Same thing." Bebe sat up, unwrapping her dinner mechanically and taking a huge bite. Nothing was better after a long cry than a juicy Chipotle burrito. Bebe moaned. "This is better than sex. Not that Clyde gave me much to compare it to."

"What happened?" Wendy went right into getting the gossip, pulling off her coat and scarf as she sank into Bebe's desk chair. "Your dad told me you were grounded."

She groaned. "You wouldn't believe the shit I've been through in the past week. You chose a really bad weekend to leave."

And with that, Bebe told Wendy everything, from the horrible sex with Clyde to the deal she'd made with Kenny. By the time she was done she was out of breath. "And the worst part is," she sniffled, taking a swig of her Dr. Pepper, "is that now Kenny is going to think I flaked on auditioning since I can't text him and explain."

"Want to text him from my phone?" Wendy offered, digging it out of her white hobo purse.

Bebe grabbed it greedily, putting in Wendy's passcode. "You're a godsend," she gushed, opening a conversation with Kenny. "Hopefully he takes the news well. He was like, really insistent that I audition. It was kind of weird."

 _'_ _hey kenny,'_ Bebe typed at lightning speed, ' _this is bebe. got grounded 4 some stupid shit so i don't have my phone. my rents wont let me audition for the musical. sorry :'( '_

"Let's hope this works out." She sent the text and the little beast of impatience began to gnaw at her gut once more.

Wendy took back her phone, holding up her intertwined index and middle fingers. "Fingers crossed. Isn't it kind of weird that he hadn't already put your picture in The Archive, though?"

Bebe shrugged. "I'm not going to question the few good cards that have been dealt to me. So you already told me you won first place at your lame ass science fair," she started, chugging along despite Wendy trying to protest, "how was the rest of the trip? Any hot doctors offer to be your sugar daddy?"

Her cheeks went telltale pink as she thought of her almost-kiss with Kyle. "No."

"Oh, I forgot," Bebe waved her hand dismissively, "you and Stan are the power couple of the century and can't be separated by worldly forces like money or PhDs."

Wendy eyed her phone, hoping Kenny would text back so they'd have something else to discuss. "Well…actually…" she began wishy-washily, scrunching up her nose. "I've been having some second thoughts about Stan recently."

Bebe let her mouth fall open. "Are my ears betraying me or did you just admit to having relationship issues?"

"Ha, ha," Wendy said dryly, "you're so funny. I'm trying to be serious, here. I need girly best friend time right now."

Bebe was suddenly serious. "Okay. This is my mature best friend persona. You have my undivided attention and my 'tease Wendy all the time' mode has been switched off."

"Thank you." Wendy fixed her plum purple cardigan before she began to speak. "I just sometimes wonder if Stan and I are even really _together._ "

The blonde made a confused face. "You guys have been dating since before I can even remember."

"Exactly. Do you know we've never celebrated an anniversary? Neither one of us can remember when we started 'officially' dating. When we were younger, like eight and nine, it didn't count because we were so small. And then in middle school it didn't count because we were immature, or something. And then freshman year didn't count because we were freshmen, and the same thing went for sophomore year. Now we're juniors and I still don't know when our first _real_ date was."

"Oh. Wow." Bebe was more into finishing her burrito than listening to Wendy complain about her relationship, but she did anyway, because she was _that_ good of a friend.

"And now," Wendy said, hardly pausing to take a breath, "I can't even look him in the eye without feeling like I'm telling him I want to have sex. Ever since our first time in the woods I feel like sex has defined our relationship."

"Have you had sex since?" Bebe asked with a mouthful of rice and tortilla.

"No! I'm too scared. The first time _sucked_. He literally just laid on top of me and two seconds later he came and then we went and got Slurpees. It wasn't romantic at all. Sometimes I feel like I'm still a virgin because he wasn't even inside of me for a whole minute."

"It's the thought that counts when it comes to virginity," Bebe said intelligently, as if she were a wizened wizard of sex.

"And now I've gotten super close with Kyle, and he's like – he's everything Stan _isn't._ He's all of what I like about Stan and then some. Which is why they get along so well, I guess," Wendy trailed off, not noticing the look of sheer joy that had erupted across Bebe's face.

She pointed an accusatory finger at her best friend. "So you _do_ like him! You like Kyle! You _slut!_ "

Wendy grabbed Bebe's finger and put it down, giving her a look. "Shut up before everyone in South Park hears you."

Bebe giggled, trying to bite back her grin. "But you do like him. Like, you have a bona fide crush on your boyfriend's best friend?"

She avoided Bebe's eyes and picked at the edge of her skirt. "Yeah, I guess."

"Ha!" Bebe shrieked, wiggling in her spot on her bed, "Oh my God, I fucking knew it."

"Okay, I want best friend Bebe back," Wendy said impatiently. Bebe flipped the switch and lost her self-righteous grin. "I don't know what to do about this stupid crush. I almost _kissed_ him on the trip. We were centimeters away. No, millimeters away."

Bebe wanted to speak but then realized whatever she was going to say would cause her to leave best friend mode. She remained silent as Wendy continued her turbulent inner monologue.

"Kyle is like…like everything I want in a guy. He's thoughtful, patient, sweet, intelligent – and Stan is just cute and a good kisser. And sometimes he does stupid stuff that makes me laugh. Other than that…."

"Hold up," Bebe held up a hand, causing Wendy to pause mid thought. "Stan is not _cute._ Stan is hot as fuck."

"I didn't say he was ugly. I think he's good-looking."

"You're not getting it. Stan isn't just good-looking, he's fucking _hot_. He's got the body of a god. His skin is the perfect mix of flawless caramel and sparkling bronze possibly _ever_. His eyes? Bluest blue I've ever seen. And his hair is impeccably messy all the time like he's always just taken off a football helmet. His _teeth,_ " Bebe continued, getting a little heated, "are like little hand carved pearls gifted from Poseidon. Oh my God, and his hands are so perfect. They're made for handing a girl puppies and wiping her tears."

"Tell me again how hot you think my boyfriend is," Wendy replied sarcastically.

"Believe me, I could go _on_ if I saw him naked." Bebe paused to smile at the thought before continuing her complex analyzation. "Kyle is the 'cute' one." Bebe used air quotes, losing her previous vigor and gaining a bored glaze over her eyes. "His nose is kind of too big but he's got curly hair so they balance out. The only thing he's tied with Stan for is his ass. _Spitting_ image of the peach emoji. And his body is all right, I guess. He's got nice legs from marching band. After he got his braces off in middle school he got a little better looking, but he still dresses like square."

Wendy was feeling a little attacked. She frowned, trying to picture Kyle in her mind's eye to remember any flaws. She couldn't think of any off the top of her head. She kind of _liked_ all of his little nuisances. "I'm not into guys for their looks."

"Obviously, if you like Kyle." Bebe chortled, scarfing down the last piece of her burrito. She released a satisfying belch.

"Bebe, I'm having a crisis. It's not like I can just dump Stan with no hard feelings and get together with his best friend. It's going to ruin everything."

Wendy leaned forward with her elbows on her knees, burying her long fingers into her mass of sleek black hair. Even if Kyle and Stan weren't lifelong best friends, she would feel horrible just for breaking up with Stan for someone else. Even if Stan was the one to dump her, she couldn't get together with Kyle because it would ruin their friendship. Wendy groaned and swallowed the lump forming in her throat. There was no happy ending no matter what scenario she came up with in her head. Why did feelings have to be so confusing?

Bebe shrugged. "Then don't dump Stan and just fuck Kyle behind his back. He's so dense he won't pick up on a thing." She balled up her Chipotle tinfoil and chucked it across the room to her trash can. She missed.

Wendy sat up, her curtain of hair falling into her face. "I would never do that. Stan would find out."

"Aha! So you've thought about doing it before." Bebe pointed her usual finger, looking more and more satisfied with herself by the second.

Wendy, caught red-handed, tried to deny everything. She quickly seized Bebe's hand and threw it down into her mattress. "No I haven't."

Bebe grinned and shook her head. "You're such a shit liar."

"Fine. Maybe I have. But thinking about it doesn't mean I'd ever do it." Wendy was mortally embarrassed as she recalled the dream she'd had last night featuring the topic of conversation. She'd woken up in a hot sweat. She blinked away the thought. "Actually…I wanted to talk to you about something else."

"You didn't kiss Kyle so you sucked his dick instead? Go you." Bebe picked up a stray nail file and began to shape her fingernails.

"No, oh my God, Bebe," Wendy sighed, resembling Bebe's exhausted father. "I was at Stan's house last night and I checked his phone when he went to the bathroom. Guess what I saw."

Bebe's filing slowed to a snail-like pace. "I think I can guess from the way you just said that."

"He's been texting Sally Turner. Not like, 'hey, what was the homework,' kind of texting. She's been flirting with him. They have a Snapchat streak. _And_ he's liked every single one of her pictures on Instagram." Remembering what she'd discovered was making Wendy's stomach upset. She took a sip from Bebe's soda.

The blonde thought for a moment before speaking resolutely. "Good."

"Good? That's horrible, Bebe!" Sometimes Wendy wondered where she had found such a stupid best friend.

"No, it's good because when you get caught cheating on Stan with Kyle, you can just pull the 'you did it first' card."

Wendy rolled her eyes and shook her head, feeling more desperate and hopeless than ever. "You're the worst at giving advice."

"And you're the worst at receiving my whittled words of wisdom."

"Let's get serious. What am I supposed to do? I'm scared if I'm around Kyle I won't be able to control myself and I'm going to jump his bones." The thought of actually jumping his bones made Wendy flush with a rush of excitement.

Her best friend gave her a skeptical look. "You're almost an adult. You can learn to control yourself. You've been dating Stan since you guys were like eight years old and you've managed to only fuck _him_ once."

"I don't want to fuck Kyle at all!" Wendy cried.

The blonde widened her eyes, examining her manicure. "Keep telling yourself that."

Wendy's phone dinged and Bebe made a mad dive for it, grasping it victoriously before unlocking it and opening the conversation with Kenny. Her heart had begun to race – the thought of having one problem off of her heaping plate was the silver lining of a shitty week. Her excited smile slowly faded into a horrified frown.

' _nice try. i could tell you already didnt want to do it. have fun with your nudes in the archive'_

"What the fuck." Bebe's face was starting to go numb, the feeling trickling down until her body felt like she had frostbite all over. She forgot to blink. "Oh my God. Wendy. What's happening? Am I hallucinating? Did you lace my burrito with something or did Kenny just royally screw me over?"

Wendy grabbed her phone out of Bebe's hands and read the text. "Holy shit."

"Oh my God. It's official. Wendy, I'm an Archive girl."

"It's okay. Please don't cry. It'll be okay." She held out her hands and pulled Bebe into a hug.

Bebe wiggled out of Wendy's embrace with her eyes glued open. They looked ready to bug out of her skull. She tried to take a steadying breath and opted for downing the rest of her soda instead. "It's all right," she attempted convince herself, her voice wavering, "all publicity is good publicity…right?"

Wendy gave her an unconvincing smile that looked more like the expression of a hostage being forced to make a tape. "Right?"

* * *

Kenny couldn't believe it. Ever since he'd made that deal with Bebe at school he'd been looking forward to the musical, hyping himself up to see her as Audrey in _Little Shop of Horrors._ Now that she wasn't auditioning, he couldn't think of who was talented enough for the role. Wendy was pretty good but she was too wrapped up in her science fair stuff so she couldn't do it. Nicole was a great singer but Kenny knew she'd be cast as one of the three doo-wop girls because she could riff. Who was left that was lead-worthy? Lola? Even then, Lola had the tendency to go flat when she sang and could barely be called a decent actress. Plus, she was kind of annoying, even if she was cute. Kenny knew he had the role of Seymour in the bag, and the thought of playing lovers with Lola was making him sick to his stomach. Bitter about Bebe not auditioning, Kenny went into his camera roll, ready to load up her scandalous picture into The Archive out of sheer spite.

He paused, examining the photo. Wendy was in the background, laying on her stomach with her feet in the air, working on some kind of project. Bebe was posed in front of her mirror, half arched over and wearing the white-trashiest pair of yoga pants he'd ever seen. She was topless. Her little tummy hung over her leopard print waistband. Her curls, perfectly tossed and mussed, danced down her back. The sight of her chest caused blood to rush into Kenny's nether regions. He gasped in horror. There was no way he was getting a boner from Bebe Stevens's nude.

Kenny peered down over his nose and saw the impressive tent he was pitching. A little disappointed in himself, he let his head fall back into his ratty pillows, giving a defeated sigh. There was little he could do at that point. Resolutely, he unbuttoned his jeans, reaching a hand into his pants. He almost couldn't believe himself. Since when had he sunk low enough to actually jack off to the nudes that were sent to him for The Archive? His train of thought was muddled as he stared deeper and deeper at the picture.

He imagined Bebe in the room with him, sitting on the edge of his bed, smelling like her usual cloud of impermeable cotton candy perfume. She was wearing her trashy yoga pants. " _This_?" She touched the bandages on her forehead, a playful smile on her full lips. " _You're going to pay for doing that to me_." On all fours, she crawled up Kenny's mattress, her boobs looking incredibly enticing in a skimpy red bra. Once she had reached his hips, she sat down, grinding against him with her world-class ass. Her thick arms reached behind her back and she unfastened her bra, clamping her hands over her bare chest.

He reached forward in his haze, trying to pull her hands away. She twittered with a cute little laugh and let him. The sight of her nearly naked body brought him to the edge. He dreamed that she was kissing him, leaving big red lipstick stains on his skin, trailing down his neck and humming as she went. She raked the edge of her teeth on his stomach as she unbuttoned his pants.

Kenny's fantasy went black as he came, filling his palm with warm cum. He grimaced and reached for a stray dirty t-shirt on his floor, wiping it off. Panting, he collapsed into his sheets, shaking his stupor away. What had he just dreamed up? He decided the last batch of weed he'd gotten from his supplier must've had some weird shit in it. Maybe he should drop the price until he got more in. There was just _no_ way he'd had some weird sexual fantasy about Bebe Stevens. She was _gross_. She partied like she was trying to make everyone think she was cool and Clyde had told everyone she wasn't even good in the sack at lunch on Tuesday.

He picked up his phone and loaded up Bebe's nude, pausing before loading it into The Archive. Wouldn't he feel guilty? His thumb hovered over the upload button. Kenny chewed his lip. Maybe Bebe _had_ been telling the truth when she said her parents wouldn't let her audition. A flash of his still-lingering dream punched through his consciousness and he hit the button. There was no turning back.

Bebe Stevens was officially the newest girl in The Archive.

* * *

Hope you guys are liking the story! Let me know what you like (or don't) by leaving a review. Just thought I'd let you guys know this fanfic is looking at being 25 chapters long, with 24 normal chapters followed by an epilogue. With that being said, make sure you follow to keep up to date. Thanks for reading, see you guys next week!


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter Seven**

Wendy's senses were overwhelmed with Stan. His boyish smell, the gentle scratch of stubble on his chin, the taste of his minty toothpaste, and the feeling of his ever-so-slightly chapped lips against her own. His hard back was hers to explore with open palms and he made her feel delicate with his big, strong hands. Even so, every time she closed her eyes she saw the flash of a red curl, an instant of a freckled smile, the vibrant image of bright green eyes in her head. She wanted to completely submerge herself in Stan to get rid of her unwanted thoughts. Wendy made sure to press her entire body against him.

Stan was kind of confused where this sex-starved version of Wendy was coming from, but he wasn't about to fight it. She'd come over only an hour ago and kissed him suddenly while he was talking about the upcoming football game. It had since turned into a heavy makeout session. He'd lost his shirt only minutes ago and was currently working at the buttons on her sunshine colored blouse. Wendy had a nice body. She was healthy, toned, and had the kind of subtly golden skin that was absent of any imperfections. Stan was thinking about how lucky he was while Wendy stared blank-faced at the ceiling.

What was she doing? They both had a football game to get to in the next hour and she still had to go home and pick up her cheer uniform. She didn't want to have sex again – her thoughts were kind of scrambled into thinking she _did,_ because Stan was kissing all over her stomach and it felt nice – but ever since she'd dreamed about Kyle and almost kissed him she'd been wanting to cleanse her mind of his image. As hard as it was to think about anything else but being touched, she still managed to wish it was someone else instead of her boyfriend wiggling her panties off from under her skirt.

Stan was on some kind of blissful high as he leaned over Wendy to dig for a condom in his nightstand drawer. He was certain after their last rendezvous in the woods that she wouldn't want to have sex again, but there they were, exposed and breathless, ready to give in to the rage of teenage hormones that were consuming their bodies. Wendy ran her hands over her face, damp with sweat, watching the ripple of his muscles across his chest. Bebe was right. He was a bit surreal to look at. If football didn't pan out, Stan could probably find work as an underwear model. She tried to distract herself from her unfaithful thoughts by engraving the image of his body into her brain.

Wendy was hoping as Stan got older he would get better at sex. He rammed into her so hard she hissed and winced, clawing into his back and pressing her forehead into his shoulder. A pained whimper escaped her lips. Stan grimaced and kissed her forehead apologetically, murmuring, "Sorry, babe." _Kyle_ would've probably been a lot gentler.

Panicked at her sudden intrusive feelings, she kissed him. Even if he was a bit forceful, Stan was an amazing kisser. She felt like every square inch of her skin was beginning to melt away. Everywhere their bodies met made her feel as if she was on fire. Wendy's mind was like an egg that had been cracked into a hot frying pan, her thoughts sizzling until she couldn't think clearly anymore, her body starting to heat up rapidly. She freed her arms from the sleeves on her lemon yellow blouse, throwing it on the floor. Stan's hands ran along the length of her newly bare skin.

Downstairs, she could hear Mr. and Mrs. Marsh watching TV. She would've died of embarrassment if they were to come upstairs anytime soon. Across the hallway, Shelly was unpacking her things for Christmas break. She'd just gotten home from UC Boulder the night before. Wendy suddenly felt much more exposed and turned to squint at Stan's doorknob, making sure the lock was pressed in.

He kissed her most sensitive spot on her jugular, causing her to wriggle in delight. His lips made a seal against her skin, lifting welts into her complexion. Wendy wished he wouldn't have given her any hickeys before she was about to wear her hair in a ponytail while cheering in front of half the school, but it felt so good her train of thought was starting to drift off into nothingness.

"You're so beautiful," Stan whispered into her collarbone.

When he talked to her like that, how _could_ she think about Kyle? Wendy stared into Stan's clear blue eyes before he closed them and leaned in to kiss her again. She gasped and sucked in a sharp breath as her legs contracted, locking in Stan's hips against her own. She was shocked into stillness, jaw agape as she tucked her head underneath Stan's chin so he wouldn't see how aghast she was. Her body was raked with waves of euphoric pleasure. Waiting until her moans had subsided, she fell back into Stan's pillows, chest heaving.

She'd just had her first orgasm with her boyfriend.

While she tried to get a grip on what had just happened, Stan thrust into her one last time, shuddering as he came. He was serenely spent, trying to catch his breath. He collapsed next to his girlfriend, weaseling his arm underneath her head and using the crook of his elbow to bring her forehead in for a kiss.

Wendy was still wondering how she had managed to come in the first place. He wasn't doing anything special. All he had done was kiss her. Was that all it took? Was sex really something to enjoy and not something married women begrudgingly agreed to at the end of the day? Rocked at this sudden realization, Wendy didn't notice when her boyfriend slipped away and tossed their used condom into the trash. He stared at her image, lips open and her chest sparkling with after-sex sweat, sighing blissfully. She may not have known it, but over the years Wendy had grown from a cute little kid into a strikingly pretty girl.

Stan kissed her once more and slipped on a pair of boxers. "I need to shower before the game, babe. Do you want to go first?"

Wendy nodded, eyes unblinking. Her firm beliefs of sex being a chore had been shattered in mere seconds. Her voice was still a little weak. "No, I can shower at the school." As an afterthought, she shook her head slowly.

He knitted his thick eyebrows at her, sitting down on the edge of the bed. "Are you all right?" He brushed a chunk of damp hair away from her cheek, leaning over her. She finally blinked and met eyes with him.

"I'm fine. Go shower, I'll get my stuff ready." She gave him an unconvincing smile.

Stan stood from the bed and closed the door behind himself, crossing the hallway to the bathroom. Wendy heard the squeak and splash of the shower turning on and she threw her legs over the side of his bed, letting her feet dangle for a minute. A feeling that she hadn't experienced in a long time was starting to wash over her. It was the comforting glow of love for her boyfriend.

All of her mixed up feelings over Kyle were being overcome by the realization that she'd only starting having doubts about her relationship with Stan after their fiasco in the woods. Now that she knew sex with him could be enjoyable, all the other doubts she had about him were obsolete. Comforted by how everything had worked itself out, Wendy began picking up her clothes from the floor, buttoning up her blouse and pulling her underwear and tights back on. For a moment, she sat on his bed, staring at her toes through her black tights. She replayed every fond moment she had with Stan, from their mishap of a first kiss to when they won homecoming prince and princess in sophomore year. They'd had a good run so far.

Stan entered with a towel wrapped around his hips only moments later. He'd always taken quick showers due to the wrath of Shelly if he took longer than fifteen minutes in the bathroom. Wendy had seen him shirtless countless times but it never failed to get her hormones in a whirl. She stared at him with her face excitedly pink. The veins of water running down the muscled expanse of his chest made him look like an oiled Greek statue. He chuckled a bit and made his way over to his closet, leaving sopping footprints in the carpet. Wendy watched rivulets of moisture make their way down his legs. He pulled out a fresh pair of boxers and dropped his towel, pulling them on. She sighed dreamily. Not only did her boyfriend just give her the first orgasm she'd ever had during sex, he had a _really_ cute butt.

In a dreamlike state, Wendy watched her boyfriend get dressed with adoring eyes. At that moment, she would've given him the world if he'd only asked. He donned a pair of track pants in South Park High's trademark shade of forest green and an old t-shirt that was a favorite of Wendy's to steal and parade around in whenever she came over. He picked his towel up off the floor and ruffled his wet hair with it, throwing it in his overflowing hamper. He offered Wendy an extended hand.

"Ready to go, babe?"

Wendy hopped from her seat on his bed, taking his hand bracingly with a bright smile. "Yup."

Stan grabbed his phone from his nightstand, glancing at the screen for a split second. Out of curiosity, she watched his thumb slide a Snapchat notification over to the right, opening the app. Stan must've known she was peeping over his shoulder because he brought his phone closer to his face, pretending to squint. She could barely see the screen from the angle she was at. Stan tapped the picture to open it – there was _no_ mistaking the flash of red hair and the candy floss pink bra that appeared on his screen for a split second – Stan hit the screen again to close it. His eyes immediately flew to Wendy's, looking panicked and guilty. She let go of his hand in an instant.

"Fucking _really_? Sally Turner is sending you pictures of her tits?" Wendy put her hands on her hips and felt like her mother. "So glad to see you guys are developing a beautiful _friendship_."

He made a face like he couldn't believe he had to do 'this.' "Wendy, c'mon. I didn't know she was going to send that to me. I didn't ask her to."

She rolled her hazel brown eyes and crossed her arms sternly over her chest. "I bet she wouldn't have sent you a picture like that if you hadn't given her the idea that it was okay for her to do so."

"Babe," Stan tried, his voice verging on pleading.

Wendy held up a finger. "Don't ' _babe_ ' me. Text Sally Turner right now and tell her that you're never going to speak to her again." Her voice was strained even though she was trying really hard to sound tough.

"You can't do that to me, you're not my mom."

She scoffed and pinched the bridge of her nose – a habit she had picked up from spending so much time with Stan. "I'm not your mom, but I am your girlfriend. If another girl is sending you pictures of herself in her underwear then I think I have the right to ask you to not speak to her."

Stan huffed and flared his nostrils like he had half a mind to sucker punch his girlfriend. They glared at each other for what felt like eons before Stan finally gave up and opened up a new text to Sally. Wendy noticed her name was saved into his phone as 'Sally T,' punctuated with a unicorn emoji and a winking face. She set her jaw and bit the inside of her cheek.

"What do you even want me to say?" Stan snapped, raising his eyebrows in irritation at Wendy.

She snatched the phone from his hands and began to type. Her boyfriend opened his mouth like he was going to protest, but then realized it would be futile to keep Wendy from doing anything she had already set her mind to. It was all he could do to stand and watch as she furiously typed, the sound of her fingernails clicking against the glass the only sound in the room.

' _This is Wendy, Stan's girlfriend. I saw the Snapchat you sent him. Please never speak to him again and get the idea that you can 'steal' him from me out of your mind. Thank you.'_

The black haired girl slapped his phone into his waiting palm and stormed out of the room. On their way out to Stan's truck, he caught the worried eye of his mother and the inquisitive look of his father. He could tell his dad was trying to mouth something behind his mustache but Stan could've cared less to attempt to read his lips. He slammed the front door on his way out in frustration as Wendy stood on the passenger side of his ride, arms crossed and thin lips pursed. It was hard to believe they'd just enjoyed blissful sex not even half an hour before.

At that moment, Stan thought it was way more likely he'd never speak to Wendy again – if anything, all she had done was made him want to talk to Sally even more.

* * *

Bebe always arrived to the football games early because she was cheer captain. Eyelids suitably caked in green, silver, and black glitter, she practiced making vowel shapes with her shockingly pink painted lips in the grimy mirror. The locker room was empty but she was still decked out in a skimpy cheer uniform and starched white socks. She'd always taken cheer seriously even if her squad teetered on the fine line between horrible and sucky. Adjusting her boobs, strapped down in a sports bra for the occasion, she grabbed her megaphone and pompoms, making her way out of the girl's locker room and onto the field. Some of the guys were weakly stretching under the supervision of their coach in the soggy grass. Clyde hadn't arrived yet. Bebe was glad. She wasn't sure if she could control her temper if he came into her sight again anytime soon.

She couldn't help but notice the eyes of the players following her as she crossed the field to the clear spot in front of the bleachers. One of them whistled – she couldn't tell who through their helmet – and the coach whacked him upside the head with his clipboard. Bebe giggled and made sure to switch her hips as she walked, extending the line of her self-tanned legs. If the worst thing that was going to happen to her from being the newest addition in The Archive was a few more guys ogling her, then maybe Bebe was willing to make that sacrifice.

The choir arrived, dressed in their hideous out-of-date green polos and black slacks with the chorus teacher marching purposefully in front of them. She was holding a pitch pipe and was making the line of students behind her match notes as they walked. Bebe sucked in a breath at the sight of Kenny standing with the tenors. They made eye contact. She saw a muscle in his jaw shift impatiently before he looked forward. The entire choir paraded right by Bebe as they began practicing the Star Spangled Banner in perfect pitch. She watched them go with her mouth agape in shock.

Had Kenny really just given her the dirtiest look she'd possibly ever received? Thankfully she didn't have much time to think because some of the other cheerleaders had arrived, yawning with Starbucks in their hands and shedding embroidered cheer squad windbreakers as they met in front of Bebe. Heidi approached Bebe with a supportive arm around Nichole, who had sparkling tears in her eyes. Miserably, she sniffed, arms crossed as if she was hugging herself. Instantly, Bebe didn't want to deal with the problem being presented to her, but plastered on a fake smile anyway. She had the nagging feeling that Kenny's eyes were following her and wanted to look as in control of the situation as possible.

"What's wrong, Nichole?"

Heidi decided to speak for her friend. "Nichole found out that Token had The Archive password. They decided to take a break. So she's sorry if she's not cheering to her best ability tonight."

At the mention of The Archive, Bebe's cheeks began to glow. "Aw, I'm sorry. That sucks." She didn't know what else to say. Thankfully Heidi steered Nichole over to the locker rooms so they could get ready.

The girls that remained practiced half-hearted cheers and shook their pompoms between drinks of iced coffee. Bebe led them through some warm ups and they waited for the rest of the team to arrive. As always, Annie and Red showed up late with a dozen Krispy Kreme donuts for the squad to share. They chowed down as Wendy tromped over from the parking lot, looking furious. Bebe could see Stan's towering image glowering as he stomped into the boy's locker room on the other side of the football field.

"You look radiant," Bebe joked, giving her friend a glance up and down. "What got your panties in a twist?"

Wendy slammed her pompoms on the ground, using a spare hair tie on her wrist to pull up her long hair into a ponytail. She was wearing her uniform underneath her track suit and began speaking while she shed the pieces of clothing. "Stan, my ever loving boyfriend," she spat, balling up her windbreaker and throwing it underneath the bleachers, "decided it would really _strengthen_ our relationship to start getting nudes from other girls."

Thankfully the cheerleaders were too busy eating donuts to notice Wendy and Bebe's conversation. The blonde closed in on Wendy, eyebrows knitted together.

"Not Sally Turner," Bebe said in a low voice, "she's not even _hot._ I mean, she's on the fucking flag team."

Wendy kicked off the last leg of her track pants, smoothing out her cheer skirt. "Yes, Sally fucking Turner, that dumb _slut."_

Both girls glared as the flag team showed up, carrying their rifles and looking all important in their ugly silver leotards complete with flowing skirts of lime green tulle. Cheerleaders were infamous for their bright makeup. Even Wendy had donned a huge, glittering cow on one of her cheeks for the game. But color guard makeup was a breed foreign to most teenage girls. Fifty cent red lipstick smeared into teeth and a liberal application of black eyeliner and shades of green eyeshadow that should've been made illegal years ago made the flag team resemble a group of rifle-wielding hookers.

Wendy looked like she was about to sprint across the track to strangle Sally Turner. The redhead noticed the furious cheerleader glaring at her and made a noise like a terrified woodland creature, immediately turning around to engage in fake conversation with Milly Larsen. They exchanged a few words and they both turned around to share a look at Wendy. Across the field, Stan emerged from the locker room, dressed in his football gear. Sally waved at him once he got near enough to the track. Stan returned the gesture, disregarding Wendy, who was now fuming.

"Oh, I can't _believe_ him!" Wendy stamped her foot, gripping her pompoms so hard she might've broken them in two. "I'm going to skin Sally Turner alive. No flag twirling bitch is going to steal my boyfriend."

Bebe was halfway through a donut and spoke with a mouth full of glaze and fluffy fried dough. "Why don't you just forget she sent him a nude and forgive Stan? It'll piss Sally off if you guys walk around school all the time making everyone sick by how happy you two are."

Wendy watched Stan passing a football, legs looking impeccably muscular in his pants. He _had_ said he never asked for the picture…she cast a glance toward the color guard, all flirting with members of the marching band. Kyle was practicing on his trumpet in front of Milly Larsen, who assured him he sounded good. Sally was half-bent over the chain-link fence surrounding the football field, watching Stan was a dreamy expression on her face, twirling a piece of her box dyed hair around her little finger.

What Bebe said made sense for once. The best way to ensure that Sally could never date Stan was for Wendy to never give him a reason to dump her. Her eyes began to drift back toward Kyle, looking a little ridiculous in his tall hat topped with plumage. He was absentmindedly playing notes on his trumpet, shifting back and forth on his legs nervously. From the angle she was staring, she was getting a really good view of his butt – it _was_ cuter than Stan's, easily. Wendy blinked out of her stupor as Stan approached, stopping at the fence.

"Wendy?" His voice was muffled through his white helmet, pinstriped with hunter green.

She took a few steps forward, staring at him. She was actually starting to feel a guilty from how she'd overreacted at his house. "Hey, Stan."

Stan played with the Velcro on his gloves, avoiding her gaze. "Look…I'm sorry about that whole Snapchat thing between me and Sally. You were right. She wouldn't have sent me that picture if she didn't think it was okay."

Wendy was stunned into shocked silence. Was he really coming forward and apologizing? "No, I'm the one who should be sorry. I freaked out. You should be able to talk to who you want to talk to, and I should trust you." She smiled at him, feeling a lot more relieved.

He grinned back, looking like he had just taken a really satisfying dump. "You know I'd kiss you if I didn't have my helmet on."

"Marsh! Quit flirting with your little girlfriend and get your ass back over here!" The coach barked. His whole team whooped and hollered while the cheerleaders behind Wendy giggled. Stan jogged away with a grin and pink cheeks.

The game progressed as all football games do. Crazed parents arrived with signs and megaphones, the choir sang The Star Spangled Banner, the cheerleaders tried to show off during halftime, the color guard attempted to show up the cheer squad, the marching band was decent, and the South Park Cows lost to Fort Collins. Defeated, each of the participants in the evening's festivities made their way back to their cars and respective locker rooms. Wendy dressed quickly to meet up with the Marsh family in the parking lot. Bebe took a long time to give her squad a pep talk and pat Nichole on the back, still in tears. By the time she finally grabbed her keys and exited the girl's locker room, everyone had left, save a few football players who were talking in a huddle.

One of the players came forward – the assistant captain, Token. He flashed Bebe a dazzling grin. "Hey, Bebe," he called. She stopped dead in her tracks to look at him quizzically.

"Hey?"

They hadn't spoken to each other since the week after homecoming when Clyde found them making out underneath the bleachers. It wasn't one of her proudest moments and thankfully Token and Nichole got back together for the umpteenth time shortly after they'd been caught so the school wasn't talking about Bebe's unfaithfulness for very long. She had enough bad publicity as it was.

A car horn blared in the parking lot and the straggling football players said their farewells, piling into a minivan. As they drove away, Token seized Bebe's hand and pulled her into an all-too-familiar spot in the shade of the bleachers. Above them, a few kids were still lingering, smoking cigarettes under the cover of the twilight sky. Bebe could see the glint of Token's pure white teeth smiling in the dim light.

"What do you want, Token?" She had a pretty good idea what he wanted.

He licked his lips. "We had some good times, didn't we?"

Bebe sighed and clenched her jaw. "Good times don't count me cheating on my ex."

"I know. Look, Nichole and I…" he trailed off, admiring the shape of Bebe's face, a purple tint cast across her skin from the sky. "I miss you."

She openly groaned, trying to leave. Token threw an arm out to stop her. Bebe went underneath it. He caught her wrist, whipping her around. Before she could register what was happening, they were kissing, and Token's tongue found its way between her teeth.

Flashes of the two of them sneaking away after joint practices to kiss in the shade came back to her. Holding hands, laughing, sharing a pack of gum and drinking from the same water bottle. Even images of them as little kids fumbling through Valentine's Day kisses on cheeks appeared in her mind, as vivid as if they had happened yesterday. She was kissing him back from muscle memory. He had always left her wobbly-kneed and breathless.

She pressed a hand against his chest, pushing him away. "You don't want this. You're just doing this because Kenny put me in The Archive."

"What are you talking about?" Token laughed, putting his strong hands on her muffin top, "That's not the only reason – "

That was all Bebe had to hear. She readjusted the strap of her cheer bag on her shoulder, jogging away from Token to her little red bug. Considering what had just happened, she was feeling pretty indifferent. His voice calling after her felt a million miles away. She tossed her bag and her water bottle into the passenger seat, starting the engine. Before she pulled out of her parking spot, she traced her lips, the ghost of Token's kiss still on them.

Did Kenny know that's what he did to girls when he put their pictures in The Archive? Bebe decided to give him the benefit of the doubt as she watched the snowy Colorado landscape rushing past her on both sides on her way home. Maybe there was no way for Kenny to know what he really did to a girl when he condemned them to the title of 'easy.'

There was no way for him to know.

* * *

Okay I am well aware this chapter was agonizingly boring. It was a filler. I'm hitting a little bit of writer's block but I didn't want to put this off any longer or I would never finish it. As always, review, follow, favorite, and I'll see you next week!


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter Eight**

Wendy was still in a constant state of disbelief that she'd honestly won first place with Kyle at the science convention. There were kids there from expensive private academies, schools dedicated to _just_ science, and here were a couple of white trash kids who had come in and turned the entire thing on its head. Wendy had received emails and handwritten letters from colleges and universities asking her to apply or come to their pre-college summer programs. She stared at one from Harvard, a brochure encompassing everything they had to offer – elite professors, an award winning intensive program, and connections. She stared at the pictures of ivy-covered walls and students chatting with heavy backpacks on their shoulders. _That_ was the life Wendy wanted. A college experience surrounded by likeminded individuals who prized hard work as much as she did, not the life of a housewife surrounded by snot nosed little kids and a messy home. She had a feeling if she stayed with Stan that would be the life waiting for her in South Park.

Her hair hung in a soaking wet oil slick down her back, still dripping and unbrushed from the shower. She left the brochure at her crowded desk, spilling over with papers and books, and pulled a clean t-shirt from her dresser. She checked her watch. Kyle wasn't due for another half hour until band practice got over. They'd agreed that their project needed a lot more work if it was going to be up to snuff with the competition at nationals. Wendy could smell her dad cooking some of Kyle's favorite Mexican chip dip downstairs. She got the feeling that her dad liked Kyle a lot more than he liked Stan.

She pulled on her shirt and a pair of modest cotton underwear, the kind that Bebe always pointed at in the locker room and laughed at. As soon as the bristles in her brush had met her hair, the doorbell rang, and Wendy jumped. Before she even had time to react, Kyle was knocking at her door, opening it up a crack and peeking around the corner.

"Hey, band practice got over early," he called. His eyes landed on the image of a half-naked Wendy at her vanity stool and he flushed as red as his hair. He ripped his hat off and tried to hide his face with it. "Oh my God," he blurted, trying to close the door but only succeeding in smashing his arm in the doorframe, "I'm sorry, your mom told me to just come upstairs!"

Wendy gave a giggle at Kyle's awkward fumbling and continued brushing her hair. "It's fine. We're _friends_ , you can come in. I'll get dressed really quick."

She didn't know where her rush of bravery – or stupidity, as she was more likely to call it – was coming from. Wendy knew full well that if she had heard of Stan coming over to study at a girl's house and _she_ was only in her underwear and a t-shirt, all Hell would have broken loose. However, when she caught Kyle watching her in the reflection of her vanity mirror, she felt a puttering in her chest like the flutter of butterfly wings. She kind of liked the thought of Kyle seeing her in her underwear, granny panties or not.

After she had brushed out her hair and thrown up her sopping wet locks into a ponytail, she stood up, bending over her dresser to find a pair of pants to put on. Behind her, Kyle cleared his throat, adjusting his AP Chemistry textbook. Just to mess with him a little bit, she dropped the pair of leggings she pulled out of her drawer, taking a long while to pick them back up. Once she had wiggled them up to her hips, she turned around, Kyle averting his gaze and scratching at his embarrassingly red ears. Boys were so simple.

"All right," Wendy said happily, falling cross-legged onto her violet bedspread. "I think we were reviewing intermolecular bonds last time we studied together."

Kyle sniffed and scrabbled for the book in his lap. "Uh, yeah. Sure."

He had always considered himself to be very rational. He kept a level head and rarely let his temper get the best of him. However, he'd never been in a room with his best friend's girlfriend when she was wearing a skimpy little shirt and a pair of skin tight leggings before. If the sight of her butt in a pair of underwear wasn't enough to do him in, it was the way her t-shirt clung to her chest as she stretched her arms over her head like a satisfied cat. He just hoped the size of his AP Chem book was enough to cover the massive tent he was pitching. Even with no makeup on, she was stunning. He found himself staring at her slack jawed as Wendy reached over him to grab a notebook from her desk. She had the pleasant smell of a freshly washed girl, all floral and clean.

She settled back into her spot on the bed, flipping the cover of her notebook to a page halfway covered in thorough notes. Whipping a pen from the spirals, she was poised at the ready to continue their late night study sessions. Kyle started sputtering from a random paragraph on the page before he caught Wendy staring at him with knit eyebrows.

"Are you okay?" She got closer, staring at the blur of freckles on his cheeks, "If you're nervous about nationals, don't freak out. I think we've got a really good chance at winning first again."

She grinned, flashing a set of perfect teeth. When she was that close to him, he could see each individual eyelash and the tiny scar above her lip from when she'd tripped and cut herself as a little girl. Her _lips_ …he blinked and tried to focus on the mural of photographs on the wall. Her smell was too intoxicating. Out of habit, he tugged on his hair, trying to hide behind it. He turned to her again and she pointed to the mass of red curls on his head.

"You know, I really like your hair. I don't know why you try to hide it with a hat all the time."

 _Fuck_ being rational and level headed. In one rush of courage and adrenaline, he rushed toward Wendy, their lips colliding hard. Kyle could feel his heart racing – Wendy, on the other hand, had felt as if the world itself had stopped spinning so they could share that one kiss. He pulled back, ready to apologize, but stopped the words from forming.

Wendy stared at him in a state of paralysis. Had they really just kissed? Had they _finally_ just kissed? The world was moving like it was submerged in Jell-O. Her breath came slow and thick and she wanted to kiss him again. She didn't care what Stan would think. Stan was a thousand miles away at that point, in a world disjointed from Kyle and Wendy.

When their lips met again, they were parted, and Kyle's hands took no time in settling along the curve of Wendy's back and the nape of her neck. He tasted like fresh springtime and Wendy hurried to pull his sweater off. He complied, peeling away his outerwear, skin erupting in goosebumps at the lost layer. Wendy bunched up the fabric of his undershirt into her fists, sighing into their embrace. Kyle was even better at kissing than Stan was, if that was possible. How had he gotten _so_ good?

Within seconds they were sprawled against Wendy's bedspread, tossing her countless throw pillows on the floor, legs kicking the freshly made sheets into oblivion. Their bodies layered together like puzzle pieces. Kyle ghosted over Wendy's chest, too afraid to make contact with her skin through the flimsy fabric. She bucked against him and the work was done for him. Kyle totally got where Kenny was coming from now. Boobs _were_ pretty awesome.

Out of habit, she seized the fly of his jeans, and Kyle jerked away. The fantasy building up around Wendy seemed to come crashing down in a fraction of a second. His eyes were scared. He sat up, running his hands through his hair, reaching for the textbook that had been thrown from Wendy's bed.

"I shouldn't have – I didn't – I shouldn't have kissed you," he scrambled, stuffing his book into his bag and struggling to put his sweater back on. He couldn't find the sleeves. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done that."

"Kyle…" Wendy said helplessly, watching him as he fumbled for his things.

"I'm sorry," he insisted, putting his hat back on and pulling car keys out of his back pocket, "Fuck, I'm so sorry."

She sat on her knees, watching him leave, face flushed and agonized. Wendy didn't bother to open her curtain and watch him drive away. She heard his car engine start outside of her window, tucking her legs up to her chest and resting her forehead on her knees. Why did she always make a mess of everything? Kyle kissed her. She should've said ' _No, I'm with Stan,_ ' but instead she had to kiss him back. How was she going to face him at school? Forget their science project – there was no way they were going to be able to work together as a team now. Did making out with Kyle really mean she was going to flub her dreams of going to Harvard? That science project meant everything to her acceptance. Without it…Wendy didn't want to think about that possibility.

Her phone dinged and she grabbed it, overly excited and with the faintest glimmer of hope that it might be from Kyle. Disappointingly, it was from Stan. She opened it wearily.

 _'_ _hey babe, was just thinking about you. How's the study sesh going?'_

She didn't respond. Any answer Stan wanted to hear would be a lie. Wendy thought she'd had enough of lying to her boyfriend for one lifetime. Turning her phone off and tossing it on her floor, Wendy pulled her panda throw pillow up against her chest, hugging it close. The tighter she squeezed the less guilty she felt.

* * *

Getting testing for gonorrhea was a little dehumanizing, especially with a mother like Bebe's. Begrudgingly, Mrs. Stevens had taken her one day after cheer practice, keeping her sunglasses on even in the building and hanging her head low. It was basically in and out with a friendly nurse and Bebe was back home. The results seemed like they couldn't hurt her now – she'd already gone through so much with The Archive disaster that whatever happened with her test results was going to seem old hat.

The past few weeks at school had been particularly torturous. Geeky little freshmen boys pointed at her and whistled in the hallways, football players tripped up on their feet during practice at the sight of her in a mini-skirt, but the worst part about going to school were the _girls._ Bebe knew girls could be venomous – she too was a poisonous bitch – but she was never aware of the extent they were willing to go. Sneaky pictures of her cellulite were taken in the locker room, rumors ran wild about Bebe's boyfriend-stealing qualities, cruel giggles were exchanged in the cafeteria, and every time Bebe walked into a room everyone fell silent like they had just been talking about her. It didn't help that her best friend was too busy to listen to her problems. Bebe was feeling extra miserable now that she had no one to talk to. Her mom had stopped answering her texts and phone calls the day after their argument about the clap in the kitchen.

It was a Monday so there was no cheer practice. Bebe got home, ready to change into her sweats and binge watch a show on Netflix, when she saw her mother standing in the doorway with the fierce look of a Minotaur. Crossed arms, flared nostrils, and a wide stance could only mean one thing. Bebe's test results had come back in.

"Bebe Stevens." Her mother's voice was high pitched and threateningly stiff. "I have never, _never_ in my life been so disappointed in you."

Bebe threw her backpack down in the entryway and sighed. "Did it come back positive?"

" _Did it come back positive,_ " Her mother repeated. Bebe was half expecting steam to start pouring from her ears. "Yes, it did! Your father is on his way home from his lecture right now, and you are going to _have it._ "

She rolled her eyes and collapsed on the sofa, kicking off her snow boots. It was near freezing outside with how close it was to Christmas. Her mother followed her with her mouth open wide enough to catch flies.

"Don't ignore me, little lady! I've got a few things to say to you!"

"Okay," Bebe said, turning on the TV, "Don't know why you can't say them to me while I catch up on _Pretty Little Liars._ "

Mrs. Stevens snatched the remote from Bebe's hand and turned off the cable box. "Oh, no you don't. You're grounded, missy."

Bebe stood up, huffing. She was starting to get agitated. "I can't go out with my friends _or_ do the musical at school and now you're taking away my TV privileges? What else are you going to do, turn me into Harry Potter and lock me in a cupboard? Want to put bars on my window, Uncle Vernon?"

Before Bebe's mom could snip back, her father appeared in the doorway, looking just as worn and exhausted as he always did. He had a fresh dusting of snow on the shoulders of his blue jacket. As he pulled it off, hanging it on a coat rack, he wiped his glasses on his tie, getting the melted snow off the lenses. Once he put them back on he was greeted by the sight of two blonde women fuming in front of him. His wife gave him a tight kiss on the cheek and returned back to her spot, crossing her arms and looking like an irritated toad who had gotten into a stash of lipstick.

"Your mother told me about your test results," Mr. Stevens sighed, loosening his tie. Bebe thought for a moment he was going to lecture her about the 68 she'd gotten on her last math assessment. "I'm disappointed, Bebe. You're seventeen. You're not nearly old enough to be going around catching STDs and having unprotected sex." His speech sounded very well-rehearsed.

Mrs. Stevens huffed in agreement in a haughty sort of way that made Bebe imagine her mother's body going through a meat grinder. Those daydreams were the only thing that kept Bebe from going ballistic. Her dad set down his briefcase and walked, the two other Stevens women following close behind. He kicked off his snow-soaked shoes and Bebe's mom picked them up obediently.

"You know the Bijou Cinema, don't you, Bebe?"

Bebe rolled her eyes. "That dirty little theatre that plays one movie at a time? Sure."

Mr. Stevens went into the kitchen and poured himself a glass of water from the tap. "I used to teach the manager at Park County Community College," he said importantly, like being a composition teacher at a community college was something to boast about, "And I took the liberty of handing in an application – _your_ application – for the position of cashier that just opened there."

The blonde stopped dead in her tracks. "You _what_?"

"The manager was kind enough to hire you on a probationary basis. Said something about me being his favorite teacher before he dropped out. You start work on Monday. Thankfully I had some errands to run in town so I picked up your uniform on the way home."

Apparently Mr. Stevens thought that was the end of things. He took a deep gulp from his glass of water and started to walk away. Bebe started yelling immediately.

"You're making me get a job because I accidentally caught the clap from some _fuckboy_?" Bebe looked at ceiling, wondering if God was really there. Surely if he was he had a major problem with her. "Is this the sixteenth century? Like, what the fuck!"

Mrs. Stevens pointed a threatening finger. "Don't you talk to your father like that, young lady. Watch your language and your tone."

"I'll talk to him however I want. And my first day of work is on Monday? That's the first day of Christmas break! You want me to spend my school vacation selling musty boxes of Raisinets to the crusty ass people that come to see movies at Bijou?"

Bebe's mom put her hands on her hips. "Your father and I agreed that we were tired of having to pay for your expensive lifestyle. You love all of your Uggs and Victoria's Secret underwear, but we can't afford all of those things with my Mary Kay sales and your father's job at the college." She shared a look with her husband, who did not return it.

Bebe was trying very hard to stay calm. She really didn't feel like worsening her punishment before Christmas break. She took a few deep breaths before speaking again.

"Mom. I didn't _mean_ to go out and get the clap. I can't believe you're punishing me for one little accident. The lady at the clinic said it only took a week to treat gonorrhea!"

Mr. Stevens rubbed his crow's feet. "One little accident could've been one _big_ accident. Imagine if you had slipped up on your birth control. You could've gotten pregnant, God forbid."

"' _Could've_ ' being the operative word, dad!" Bebe could feel tears starting to choke her voice. "Look, I didn't want the clap. It was one mistake. I already told you I gave him a condom, he just didn't put it on!"

Mr. Stevens held up a hand to stop Bebe from speaking anymore. "I don't want to hear the details. No matter what you _meant_ to happen, you got an STD, and your mother and I decided to punish you. You need to think about the consequences of your actions. I think you can get a lot of thinking in while selling concessions at Bijou. Now march yourself upstairs and finish your homework."

Bebe stomped her foot on the kitchen tiles and stormed away. She _hated_ her parents. She hate, hate, hated them. "This is so unfair!" She cried, making sure to slam her feet into the stairs and make as much noise as possible on her way up.

"Boo-hoo," her mom called dryly, "Get over it. Life isn't fair."

Truer words had never been spoken.

* * *

Almost at chapter ten. Thanks for all the support so far! I love reading your reviews. I wish the person who had left the question about Wendy's skirt had an account so I could've answered their question privately! A guest asked, ' _This has been a great ride so far, can't wait to see more of it! Did Wendy actually leave her skirt on while screwing Stan? If she did, why? I know it's a weird question, but a chick leaving her skirt on during sex is pretty dumb unless they're trying to hide that they're doing it in the first place, like somewhere public_.'

My answer to that is because they're awkward teenagers having sex in a house with parents and siblings inside, I guess. I think because Stan could easily fuck Wendy with her skirt on he didn't think to take it off. Teenagers are kind of dumb. No offense to them, though, I'm 18 myself.

Anyway, make sure to follow and favorite and review (as always)! See you guys next week for chapter nine!


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter Nine**

Bebe was cursed with large breasts. Sometimes, they were a blessing, like when she went bikini shopping with her friends and got them to glow green with envy. Other times, like now, she was cursing God for giving her such a big rack. Her Bijou uniform consisted of a hideous candy-striper red and white collared shirt, unflattering black slacks, a tiny red hat that didn't fit atop her massive pile of frizzy curls – and a red vest made explicitly for men, which meant that even the biggest size didn't button overtop of her chest. While the waist was horribly baggy, the top was threatening to bust its row of cloth buttons. Beyond frustration, Bebe took one last look in her mirror, smoothing down her bushy hair and tugging on her vest in a vain attempt to get it to stop compressing her lungs. Grunting angrily, she grabbed her Volkswagen keys from her dresser, storming downstairs.

Her mom was enjoying a glass of Sauvignon Blanc at the dining room table while her dad read from a thick book in the living room. Bebe stood in front of them impatiently, waiting for them to notice her so they could coo over her first work uniform and she could be on her way. Mrs. Stevens was the first one to look up. She looked about ready to smile until she saw the sorry state of Bebe's vest.

"Oh, honey, what is _that_?" She pointed squarely at Bebe's chest. "Those buttons look ready to pop."

The blonde clenched her jaw and tried to look pleasant. "It doesn't fit. I'm going to see if they have one that's bigger when I finally get there."

"But look at the waist," she said, abandoning her Macy's catalogue and wine, closing in behind Bebe, "When you get a bigger vest bring it to me so I can take in the waist. This thing is doing _nothing_ for your shape."

"Yeah, I noticed. Thanks, mom."

On the couch, her dad put his glasses back on, the vague mist of pride over his eyes. "Finally off to your first day of work?"

Bebe readjusted her purse strap on her shoulder, sighing. She would much rather be curled up in bed with a pint of Cherry Garcia, but she had to admit that having some extra spending cash would be nice. She kissed her mom on both cheeks and waved goodbye to her dad.

"Have fun, sweetie," Mrs. Stevens called. There was silence from her husband until she shot him a look.

He jumped a little bit before giving an unconvincing smile. "Oh, right." He cleared his throat and looked at his daughter. "Good luck. You know what? Let's go out to dinner tonight to celebrate. Your pick, Bebe. You can tell us all about your first day."

Mrs. Stevens was satisfied with her husband's response. She bit back a pleased smile. Bebe was glad her parents were happy, at least. Dreading the next five hours of her Christmas break she'd be forfeiting, she climbed into her car, cursing Clyde for getting her into that situation in the first place. If Bebe hadn't gone over to his house to have sex then she would've never gotten gonorrhea and earned eternal scorn from her parents. There was a sort of nagging thought chewing at her frontal lobe, whispering ' _you were the one who went over to his house anyway,'_ but she chose to ignore it as she clambered into her faithful vehicle and made the short drive to the cinema.

She parked on the curb and buried her face in the collar of her winter coat. It had to be nearing freezing temperatures. The ice on the sidewalks was so cold it didn't budge as Bebe slipped across it to make her way to the ticket booth. A dejected looking Butters was rolling a month-old Sour Skittle across the counter, lips jutted out in a pout. He didn't notice Bebe approaching until she cleared her throat in the speaker. He jumped and threw the piece of candy over his shoulder, looking terribly guilty.

"Oh, well, hey there, Bebe," he gulped, taking in her poorly fitting uniform, "Are you working here now?"

Bebe tried to smile but found that it came out more like a pained grimace. "Sure am. Where's the manager? I'm supposed to go to him for my first day."

Butters pointed a pale thumb over his shoulder. "He's in the projector room with Craig."

 _Great_. Now she had to work with one of Clyde's goons. She bade Butters a goodbye and opened the red doors that led into the room where people could load themselves up with various sugary treats and soda. Unsure of where to go, she looked around until she saw a door in the corner labeled 'Employees Only.' Figuring that was her best bet, she charged forward, determined to try and make the best of her predicament.

The projector room was dim, hot, and cramped. Bebe waved her hand through the thick dust floating in the air, making out two figures hunched over the machine that played movies. They were squabbling over something but shut up once she stepped into the faulty light.

"Hi," she choked through the grime, "I'm Bebe. Your new employee?"

She extended a hand. Her manager was probably in his early thirties, but looked much older, with balding black hair and pockmarked cheeks. His bloodshot eyes behind his glasses made him seem like a drug addict – Bebe figured if she managed a place like the Bijou Cinema she'd probably take to the pipe to keep herself sane, too. His eyes ran the length of her arm, up to where her vest was ready to pop. He ogled her chest for a solid fifteen seconds before Bebe waggled her hand in his face once more. She felt entirely violated.

"Oh," he cleared his throat, giving her a nervous handshake, "Right. Professor Stevens's daughter. Nice to meet you. You'll get the hang of things around here quick. Today, you can do concessions downstairs. The next movie isn't on for another hour so you can learn the register until customers start to show up. Sound good?"

Bebe nodded, suddenly a little nervous. She'd never worked an honest job in her life. It couldn't be _that_ hard to fill up ICEE cups and ring up bags of Sour Patch Kids, right? Craig gave her a half-hearted wave that she took too long to return. She followed the manager back down the skinny flight of stairs leading up to the projector room. She noticed he was slow to move, like he had bad knees. The creepy vibe emanating off of his body made her shiver.

Soon enough they were back in the popcorn-scented air of the theater lobby. The manager gestured to the counter, where a meager collection of candies and sweets were on display. A blond boy was facing the popcorn machine, prefilling bags for the late night movie rush that her new boss assured her was going to come. Bebe thought a rush at the Bijou probably amounted to fifteen people.

"If you need anything, call for me in the ticket booth. Like I said, the job isn't hard, so you'll get used to everything real soon."

Bebe forced a smile. "Got it."

The manager looked at her chest again. "You know, if that vest doesn't fit too well, you don't have to wear it."

She felt relieved. The vest was hideous anyway. "Thank you."

So _that's_ why he was staring at her chest. She felt a little bad for being so quick to label him a creep earlier. Bebe worked at the buttons as the manager showed her to the break room – a bare closet with a metal shelving unit and a single folding chair facing a faded calendar – and she was back behind the counter feeling very liberated from her ringmaster costume. The manager retreated to the ticket booth to work with Butters and she turned to her coworker with a cheery smile, at least hoping to make a new friend out of the experience.

Her smile went from her cheeks as Kenny turned around, cheeks pink from the heat of the popcorn machine. He gave her a lopsided grin, flashing the black space where his canine once resided. Bebe resisted the urge to pour boiling popcorn butter in her eyes to have an excuse to leave work early.

"I knew we were getting someone new but I didn't think it'd be you," Kenny said, leaning against the greasy counter. His long arms were way more toned that Bebe would've expected them to be – but wait. How could he act so casual knowing what he'd done to her?

Bebe steamed quietly before exploding in the way she always did when confronted with any degree of mild conflict. "Don't get cute with me. You put those pictures in The Archive, you prick. You told me you wouldn't!"

"We made a deal. You didn't hold up your end of the bargain – now guess who Audrey is in _Little Shop_. Fucking Lola. She can't hit a note to save her life."

"My parents grounded me because – _ugh_!" She caught herself before she spilled her dirt to Kenny. "You shouldn't have done that. It was fucked up, Kenny. I tried to tell you I got grounded!"

He rolled his eyes and began adjusting the boxes of Cookie Dough Bites in the glass case. "Yeah, it's funny you say you're grounded but you can still go to cheer practice and post selfies with Wendy at your house all over Snapchat."

 _Shit._ She'd forgotten about that. It wasn't even like Bebe was allowed to decide the terms of her grounding. As she fumed with anger, the blood rushed into her head, reminding her of the peeling scab on her forehead, still tender to the touch. As she tried to steady her breathing, clenching her fists so hard her fake fingernails cut into her palms, Kenny had thrust a frothy blue beverage into her face. Steam melted off the top as Bebe's hot breath made contact with the icy surface. When she opened her mouth to question him, Kenny cut her off.

"Apology ICEE. Red on the bottom, blue on the top. Best way to eat them."

He forced the frosty cup into her hands before she had time to react. She didn't think a freezing cold drink was what she needed on a snowy day, but it might do a bit to quell her boiling temper. She sipped bitterly, narrowing her eyes at him as her lips closed around the fat straw.

He gave her a watery smile that verged on sorry. "Look, I admit that I shouldn't have put your nudes in The Archive. But we made a deal. I was just kinda pissed that I had gotten my hopes up about putting on a good musical, and your parents had to crush my dreams by grounding the only chance we had at having a decent Audrey." Another charismatic grin that made Bebe melt a bit. He extended a hand like it was an olive branch.

Bebe stared at his hand for a long time. He had long, calloused fingers with bitten-down nails. Finally, mid-sip of ICEE, she sighed, reaching forward and seizing it. She shook it once and turned around to face the register.

"Fine. I get it, you're sorry. Now how do I work this thing?"

Behind her back, Kenny pumped his fist in victory.

* * *

Wendy felt like she was breaking the law as she sat in the woods, shivering against the frigid air, rubbing her gloves together. Her breath made great, billowing clouds of steam, breaking through the steadily falling snow. Once more, she checked her phone. No new notifications. Worry was starting to gnaw at her gut. All around her, the trees were thick, black, and scary at night. It was too easy to imagine gnarled hands reaching out between the branches to snatch her up. She wished Kyle would get there soon.

On cue, he came crunching through the snow, slipping on the hardened layer beneath the new snowfall. Wendy's eyes flooded with relief when she saw him. She ran toward him and was hugging him before she knew what she was doing. Kyle didn't hug back. His body felt cold. He shivered in her arms before gently pushing her away – it hurt him to do so.

"I'm glad you came," Wendy breathed, sniffing her red nose.

He nodded, making his way to the circle of tree stumps that usually surrounded a makeshift fire pit in the summer. Now, the stone circle was buried in ice. He found himself staring at the bloated cast made by the snow as Wendy sat next to him. Even in the freezing air she smelled like cool lavender and fresh laundry.

Wendy took a deep breath and began speaking rapidly. "I'm glad you kissed me," she admitted, closing her eyes so she wouldn't have to see Kyle's expression. "I'm so glad you did. Because I really, _really_ like you and I've been wanting to kiss you for a long time."

Kyle was shocked into silence. Wendy kept talking, eyes glued shut.

"I wish you weren't best friends with Stan because it would make everything easier. I love him, but I like you too, and I know that you're better for me than he is. I know you are." She took a breath, her words coming out like rapid fire bullets. "I want to date you. We could be _so_ good as boyfriend and girlfriend. I want us to go on dates to the mall and the movies and hold hands in public, but we _can't,_ and no matter how it ends with Stan I can probably never be with you, and it's driving me crazy." Her next breath was a shudder. "Kyle, I think I'm falling in love with you."

He was so stunned he felt the blood in his body flowing at a snail-like pace. Everything he'd been longing to hear Wendy say had been said, and it was now lying there in the open like a naked infant. He'd been in hopeless love with his best friend's girlfriend for so long, imagining all the ways it could've gone, and now she'd just told him she was in love with him and he didn't know how to react. His face was like stone. Wendy stood up suddenly, yanking on the edges of her beanie. Kyle was seeing everything in stop motion.

"I'll go now. I just needed to get that off of my chest."

She turned to leave through the permafrost, arms out for balance on the slippery landscape. Kyle grabbed one of her extended wrists and didn't move.

"I like you too. But I know it's not going to work." They made eye contact through the thickly falling snow. "I want to kiss you again."

Wendy gave a rueful laugh, closing the distance between them. "You know we shouldn't."

"You're right," Kyle agreed, his arms closing around her puffy jacket. "But then again, you've always been the smarter one."

She grinned, her lips raw from the chill in the air. "I'm the smarter one?"

"Yeah. Because I'm the one that's going to kiss you, not the other way around."

Like that, they were kissing, and it felt like they were in the middle of summertime heat instead of the harsh wind of a winter snowstorm. Their waterproof coats slipped against each other. Wendy felt the feeling returning to her lips as their shared warmth thawed out her flesh. It was all that a kiss had to be – short, sweet, and both of them were wishing it had lasted a bit longer.

"You shouldn't have done that," Wendy whispered, thinking the moment would be shattered if she spoke any louder.

Kyle smiled and touched her forehead with his own. "Like I said – _you're_ the smart one, not me."

For a while, they shared a tree stump, leaning against each other like emperor penguins huddling for warmth. Kyle tasted Wendy's breath and she slipped a bare hand into his mitten, lacing her fingers through his own. She didn't even mind the sweat on his palms. She leaned into his shoulder, tracing designs on the back of his hand with her thumb.

"We can make it work, you know," she muttered. "We could date behind Stan's back."

Kyle wanted to pull away but couldn't find the strength. "No, we couldn't. He'd find out. I'm his best friend and you're his girlfriend. He'd see right through us."

Wendy shook her head. "No, he wouldn't. He's too focused on football to pay us any attention. We could see each other in secret, just for a while, until we go to college and – and then we can be together."

Kyle could picture her dream in his mind's eye like it was his own. Secret rendezvous in the woods, study sessions turned to make out sessions, holding hands behind Stan's back while his arm sat unassumingly around Wendy's shoulders. Then, finally, once they were stationed happily in Massachusetts, the commute to Harvard from MIT that seemed too long to bear. Kissing at the bus stop as he arrived, Wendy's law student friends making fake gagging noises because they were just _so_ in _love_ with each other. Maybe he'd even propose to her at school. Him, a wealthy scientist, and Wendy, a successful senator. They'd have cute kids that would go on to be the next Bill Gates. The dream was so tangible Kyle thought for a moment that he could see straight into the future.

"Okay," he said, after a comfortable silence. "Let's do it."

Christmas was days away, but Wendy could've sworn it had come early just for her.

* * *

Long time, no see. I was on vacation and forgot to let everyone know with a little mini-hiatus warning. Sorry! Hope you enjoyed the chapter and I'll see you next week for our slice of Christmas in July. Review, follow, favorite, and stay tuned!


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter Ten**

Christmas at the Stevens house was always a time for celebration. Bebe's mom cracked open the champagne and her dad said to hell with his stuffy old work clothes and paraded around in a t-shirt and flannel pajama pants. Lively music boomed throughout the house. One of Mrs. Stevens's famous Christmas hams roasted in the oven, filling the air with the smell of brown sugar glaze. Each of their top lips were crested with a sweet mustache of marshmallow foam from mugs of steaming hot chocolate – always made with milk instead of water. Their morning festivities took so long they didn't get around to opening presents until noon. Bebe's favorite movie of all time, _Love Actually,_ played on repeat all day until the morning of the twenty-sixth of December. Even then, she was tempted to watch it just one more time.

She had overdosed on amazing presents. A brand new Lauren Conrad handbag in bright pink, a pair of Uggs, a dozen silk panties from Victoria's Secret, and countless other presents were strewn across their living room like the fallout from a teenage girl's wildest dreams. Bebe sighed in happiness, squeezing a soft cashmere sweater to her chest. She _loved_ being spoiled, hence why Christmas was her favorite holiday, next to her birthday.

"Thank you so much, mom and dad," she grinned, sampling a perfume roller on her wrist. "Best Christmas _ever._ "

Mrs. Stevens grinned, nestled happily in the side of her husband. Without makeup on, she looked youthful, vibrant even. Bebe thought it helped that her dad was actually paying attention to her for once. "You're welcome, sweetie. To be fair, you think every Christmas is the best Christmas ever."

Bebe collapsed on the rug, sprawled out in contentment. "You guys just outdo yourselves every year. You got me _everything_ I asked for!"

"You ask for the same stuff every year, gumdrop," her dad chuckled, sipping on his cranberry juice and vodka. He only ever called her gumdrop on Christmas day. Bebe could feel happiness oozing out of every pore in her body.

She sat up, an overwhelming need to spread holiday cheer filling her from her head to her toes. Her parents looked shocked at the serious expression now mounting Bebe's face.

"I'm sorry for everything that's happened this year," she admitted, feeling a twinge of regret. "I didn't mean to make you guys worry about me. I'm sorry I made the wrong choices. I know you guys just want what's best for me, and I'm glad you care enough to try and correct my mistakes." When her parents didn't respond, she smiled. "I'm glad I have parents like you. Honest."

Bebe hadn't expected her mom to start crying, but she did. She set down her foggy glass of Christmas cocktail and flung herself down on the rug, taking her daughter into her arms. Bebe thought her ribs might break from how hard her mom was squeezing her. "I love you so much, my sweet little _angel,_ " Mrs. Stevens cried, her body shaking with joyful sobs, "Don't ever think we're hard on you because we want to be! Everything we do for you is because we love you!"

Despite herself, the blonde felt herself crying a little, too. It only worsened when her dad wrapped his arms around the both of them, crushing them with his grip. The trio began to break into rancorous laughter, realizing how ridiculous and dramatic they were being, collapsing on the rug in the mess of Bebe's opened presents and discarded wrapping paper. With her dad in the middle, her mom on the right, and herself on the left, Bebe thought there was no other way she'd rather spend Christmas.

Her phone buzzed in the pocket of her furry pink robe. Her parents had decided to let Bebe have her most prized possession back after her first double shift at work. She glanced at it, expecting a 'Merry Christmas' text from a relative, but found the smile residing in her cheeks slipping as she saw who had sent it. Clyde.

' _Come outside'_ was all the elusive text said. Bebe blinked at her phone screen before a second text joined the first. ' _I'm in the driveway._ ' Confused, she sat up, leaving her mom and dad to cuddle on the floor while watching _Love Actually._ It was one of her favorite scenes – where the writer jumps into the water after the girl he had a hopeless crush on to save his horrible manuscript. Her parents were so wrapped up in each other they didn't notice their daughter walk up to the front door and look out of the window. Indeed, there he sat, bundled up against the cold. His red Range Rover was parked on the curb.

Bebe opened the door and shuffled along the snow in her slippers, immediately feeling the chill as the ice melted into her fuzzy socks. Clyde looked up, surprised she had actually come outside. Maybe it was the holiday cheer in her. She had always felt particularly romantic on holidays. Either way, her need to punch Clyde in the nose was sated as she met him at the end of her driveway, arms crossed across her chest for warmth. The air was biting at her skin through her thick pajamas.

"What do you want?" She asked, hopping back and forth on her feet. She was starting to lose feeling in her toes.

Clyde took a deep breath. "I'm sorry I gave you the clap." He took a long pause, waiting for Bebe's angry interjection, but it never came. "I, uh, just wanted to say that."

"Thanks for apologizing, I guess." She sniffed, rubbing her arms to warm them. "I finished my antibiotics, so I don't even have it anymore. I'm clean." She held up her numb hands and felt a giggle bubble up in her chest even though she would've normally been pummeling his smug face into the sidewalk.

He sighed in relief. "I got it from Kevin Stoley."

That took her by surprise. She felt her mouth open before she closed it to be polite. "Wow. You – you had sex with Kevin?" She kicked some fluffy snow around with her toes, avoiding eye contact.

"Yeah. And he got it from someone at band camp." Clyde looked worried and uncomfortable. Bebe had to admit that she was feeling the same way. He took a sharp breath before closing his eyes. "I'm gay."

She blinked. " _Oh_." That would've explained quite a lot about their relationship.

"So that's why I couldn't…you know, whenever we tried during Homecoming. I like boys."

"Oh my God," Bebe held up her hands to her mouth, horrified. "Did I make you gay?"

He grinned, laughing. "No. Not how it works. I've always been gay. You didn't do anything but make me sure of the fact that I am – no offense, by the way. You're still totally hot and everything."

She crossed her arms, shoving her hands into her armpits. She was starting to freeze. "None taken. Have you told your parents?" Bebe felt like they had crossed the line from angry exes to neutral friends. She knew he had always had trouble at home with his dad.

"Told them this morning," he said, rubbing his hands together for warmth. "My dad didn't take it too well, but my stepmom is getting him to come around."

Bebe saw telltale tears beginning to sparkle in his eyes. She chose to ignore them. The line between neutral friends and good friends was fine and she wasn't ready to cross it just yet. "Well…if you ever need anything, just ask." It was all that she could really think of to say in that situation. What did a girl do after she found out one of her great loves was into guys and was facing eternal turmoil at home and in his mind for being gay? _And_ he took her virginity.

Clyde smiled with tight lips, sniffling. He rubbed his eyes quickly, pretending the cold had caused his eyes to water. "Thanks. I'm sorry about everything. The clap, dating you to convince myself I wasn't gay, and being a dick in general."

"And the time you forgot my birthday," Bebe added.

He nodded solemnly. "And the time I forgot your birthday, and you ate at Benihana alone."

Bebe stepped forward, giving him a quick, chaste hug. They broke apart a bit too soon. She cleared her throat. "I accept your apology. Merry Christmas, Clyde."

"Right. Merry Christmas, Bebe."

She watched him drive off into the cool Colorado sun. The light was hitting the fresh snow just right, so it broke into a thousand shimmering rainbows. Bebe took a minute to drink it all in. The block was brimming with Christmas decorations galore, from red and white oversized candy canes lining driveways to multicolored lights strung along rooftops and windows. The great belly of a plastic Santa across the street glistened with icicles. A half built snowman sat abandoned in the front lawn across the street. Everything was still. Bebe liked that on Christmas, everything was quiet, and everything seemed to go her way. It also helped that she'd gotten the new makeup brush set she'd been wanting.

Behind her, the front door opened again. Her parents were standing with their arms around each other. "You coming inside anytime soon?" Her dad asked, flashing his teeth.

"Who was that?" Her mom added, squinting down the street.

Bebe began the trek back up to the house across the frosty front lawn. She patted the head of the giant plastic reindeer that guarded the steps, kicking off her slippers as soon as she was inside. "Clyde. He came over to say he was sorry." She peeled her sopping wet fuzzy socks from her cold, numb feet.

"Good. I'm glad he did." Her dad squeezed Bebe's shoulder knowingly and that was all that was said on the matter.

That night, after Bebe's presents were brought up to her room and the Stevens family had stuffed themselves silly with ham, potatoes, and red velvet cake, Bebe sat in the living room watching the last fleeting minutes of her favorite movie. Her parents both yawned and started up the staircase to their respective bedrooms.

"Honey," she heard her mom's voice, muffled by the distance. "Why don't you sleep in here tonight?"

Bebe was sure she wasn't supposed to be hearing what she was hearing, but she lowered the volume on the TV anyway. Her pulse was beginning to race with excitement.

"Are you sure?" Her dad's deep voice was unmistakable.

There was a moment of hesitation and then decision. "Yes, I'm sure. I get lonely in this big bed without you."

The pattering of footsteps, and then the closing of a single door. Bebe didn't want to imagine her parents doing the deed but she had never been more pleased with the possibility. For old time's sake, she started _Love Actually_ from the beginning.

* * *

Stan and Wendy always exchanged gifts in private. It was always just a bit too awkward to open presents in front of either of the families, so they opted for Stan's bedroom, perched on the edge of his bed. Wendy was always a perfectionist and it showed in her meticulous gift-wrapping. She had gone with a cute snowman print, completely with a huge bow of curly blue ribbons. Stan's present was lazily thrown into a gift bag and topped with a couple of handfuls of wrinkled tissue paper. He hoped it was the thought that counted.

"Merry Christmas, babe," he said, handing her the bag with a quick kiss on the cheek.

She smiled back at him and gently laid her massive present on top of his lap. It was heavy. "Merry Christmas."

They met eyes, grinning, before digging into their presents. Stan grabbed a corner of the giftwrap and ripped straight across – Wendy was a little sad her hard work went to such a waste – and waited for his reaction. It took him a few seconds to realize what he was looking at.

"No _way,_ " he said, his jaw slack, "no way!"

He held out his present to get a better look at it, a mahogany frame containing an autographed Denver Broncos jersey. His eyes ran over it, ravishing the fabric until they stopped on the signature. His heart could've stopped. He was certain he had the best girlfriend of _all time._ There was no doubt in his mind that he could've gotten on one knee at that exact moment and proposed to her. He resisted the urge to kiss both the jersey and his girlfriend.

Stan turned to Wendy, looking on the brink of true euphoria. "You got me an autographed John Elway jersey? These go for hundreds of dollars!"

Wendy couldn't help herself. She was feeling a little smug. "I know he's your favorite player. My dad had a friend at work who was moving and wanted to get rid of it so I got a good deal on it. Do you like it?"

"Like it? I _love_ it!"

He gingerly set down his now most-prized possession only to take Wendy into his arms in a crushing bear hug. She grunted at the pressure around her ribs but managed to hug him back. Maybe the jersey _was_ a little bit of overkill. She'd shelled out over three hundred bucks to get him his present, but she figured if he liked it _that_ much it was worth the price. And she was in desperate need for a reason to feel a little less guilty for dating his best friend behind his back.

Stan released his iron grip on her shoulders and grinned back and forth from Wendy's face to the present in her lap. "Okay, open yours. I think you're going to like it."

Wendy was doubtful. Stan truly was a _horrendous_ gift-giver. Last year she'd received a gift card to Buffalo Wild Wings and turquoise throw blanket that clashed horribly with the décor in her room. Swallowing her sudden anxiety at having to pretend like she loved her gift, she finished removing the hot pink tissue paper, making a grab for the present in the bottom of the bag.

She lifted it out and blanched.

Wendy was never the kind of girl to put on any airs or put too much thought into what she looked like. Most of her clothes came from cheap department stores and she saved makeup application for cheerleading and school dances. Her entire wardrobe probably cost the same amount as Bebe's favorite outfit. But she knew Tiffany jewelry when she saw it.

In her fingers, she twisted it around, viewing the gorgeous blue box from all angles. Once she'd untied the white ribbon, she ran her thumb over the black writing on the lid – 'Tiffany & Co.' Wendy didn't want to open it. She knew was unworthy of whatever present was inside. Still, she gathered herself, took a breath, and removed the lid.

"Oh, Stan," she whispered. "You shouldn't have."

It was a beautiful sterling silver necklace. The charm read ' _forever_ ' in curly script. He'd really outdone himself. Wendy had been expecting some lame present, like a teddy bear or another gift card to a restaurant she hated, and Stan had gone and gotten her _Tiffany jewelry._

"Here, I'll put it on."

He took the necklace from the box and Wendy turned her back to him, lifting her heavy curtain of black hair. Stan looped it around her neck, fastening the clasp in the back. Unexpectedly, he placed a kiss at the nape of her neck. Wendy flushed pink.

His lips closed in around her ear as Stan wrapped his arms around her waist from behind. "It's supposed to be for us. Because we've been together forever."

Guilt felt like a cold knife going through her heart. _Together forever._ Truly, they had been, even with several messy breakups patched in their past. Stan gave her midriff a squeeze with his forearms, watching as Wendy pulled out her phone to admire the necklace in her front camera. He rested his chin on her shoulder. In the picture, they looked so happy, each glowing with the lingering excitement of getting such great presents. Stan reached forward, pressing her screen to take a picture. Wendy turned to look at him.

"What? I thought it was a good picture," he said simply, shrugging and removing his hold from her waist.

She smiled and opened it up to look at it. It really _was_ a good picture. But that one selfie didn't change what was truly happening behind it. Wendy was cheating on Stan, Stan had probably cheated on Wendy with Sally Turner, and no amount of gift giving and sweet photographs was going to change that. But, it was Christmas day, the house was quiet, and they were happy. Wendy decided maybe that would be enough, for now.

* * *

As of the time I'm writing this, Muffin Tops & The Archive has 1,566 views, 23 reviews, 10 favorites, and 9 follows. I never dreamed so many people would enjoy my writing. Thank you so much for all of your continued support. I mean it when I say it means the world to me when you all take time out of your lives to read my work. Again, thank you so much, and I'll see you next week for chapter eleven! (Also, sorry that this is such a short chapter. I meant to do another section on why Cartman isn't around but I hate writing his character...so just for future reference, Cartman goes to military school.)

Also, I'd like to have a little disclaimer here that I in NO WAY WHATSOEVER condone the use of illegal drugs and underage drinking. Please have fun responsibly. If you rely on drugs or alcohol to have a good time, get some new friends or a new hobby. Thank you!


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter Eleven**

' _Little Shop of Horrors Tech Crew Sign Up_ ' stared at Bebe from its place on the corkboard outside of the cafeteria. She played with the purple glitter gel pen in her fingers, rolling it back and forth in careful contemplation. To sign up for tech or to not sign up for tech? That was the question. Thankfully her manager at the Bijou Cinema had come through and put in a good word with her dad, so she was officially ungrounded and off house arrest. She was at a total liberty to do _whatever_ the hell she wanted to do, including pitching in for the musical.

Kenny had talked her ear off about how much fun drama club was. Their long shifts together had been spent talking about cheer, drama, the hookup culture that was slowly growing around South Park High, and about how nasty Raisinets were. Part of their rambling conversations included Kenny gushing about the fine arts program at school. Apparently two years ago they had won some huge federal grant for underprivileged theatre and music students, and ever since the productions had gone from half-baked and embarrassing to over the top and the envy of every school in Park County. Who wouldn't want to be a part of something that was supposedly so amazing?

Bebe was at a loss for what position she wanted on the tech crew. Sure, there was the obvious choice of makeup, but she'd caught wind that Sally Turner was a shoe-in for makeup manager and she didn't think she could trust her temper to stay in check around the girl that had sent a tit pic to her best friend's boyfriend. It just went against the girl code of things to work with the chick Stan was _probably_ having an affair with.

Lights? No, weird lisping guys who traded Pokémon cards at lunch did the lights. Sound? Sure, but Clyde sometimes pitched in on the sound board and even though they were on better terms that didn't mean Bebe wanted to see him more than was necessary. Set crew would've been perfect for someone who wanted to pull their weight – so _still_ not Bebe. She was about to give up and just accept that drama club wasn't for everyone.

Finally, her eyes glazed over 'Costume Crew.' There were four blank lines underneath the bold type heading. _Perfect._ Bebe might have been a social person but she was way more of a leader than a follower. She was notorious for getting into fights with the people she worked with on group projects or at cheer. _Costume manager_ had a nice ring to it, Bebe thought. It would certainly look good on a college application if she decided to go to school after she graduated.

With one breath, she signed her name in sparkly violet ink, satisfied with herself. She was feeling a touch more put together now that she had a job, had finished her gonorrhea antibiotics, and her parents had stopped screaming at each other every time Mr. Stevens got home from work. Actually, things had gotten eerily quiet around the house. There was no polite chitchat or occasional bout of laughter from the living room while Bebe worked on her homework – just the quiet static of the TV playing in the background. A small part of Bebe liked the screaming better.

* * *

Bebe was already regretting her decision to become costume manager. The drama sponsor, Mr. Gueermo, was a _huge_ dick and had her running back and forth for pins and buttons from the minute she stepped into the auditorium. Once he'd caught her muttering under her breath and snapped, 'If you didn't want to work so hard you shouldn't have signed up to be costume manager.' Bitterly, she had to admit that he was right. To be fair, she didn't think the productions at her white trash high school with a cow for a mascot would end up being the envy of a Broadway star.

Kenny's wardrobe was difficult. He was so tall his ankles peeked out of every pair of pants Bebe brought him. His arms were long enough that a good two inches of his wrists were exposed with the sleeves rolled down on any shirt he tried on. Kenny wasn't a giant by any means but the majority of the costumes in storage were made for teenagers who weren't quite so adult-sized.

Sighing in exhaustion, Bebe lifted the lid off yet another plastic Sterlite bin of men's trousers. She checked the sizes on every pair until she found a few that _might_ fit. For good measure she tossed the cardigan she had just sewn new buttons on over her arm, carting them over to the boy's dressing room – a glorified tool closet with a few small mirrors hanging on the wall.

The door was open a crack. Bebe knocked once and swung it open, closing it behind herself. "I brought some more pants," she said, looking up.

Kenny was standing in a pair of boxer briefs, his lips slightly parted like he had been going to say something but stopped himself. Bebe's eyes betrayed her and got a _great_ look of him all the way up and down before the blood rushed into her face and she cleared her throat. Why did he have to be wearing underwear that were _so_ tight? She was basically seeing him naked.

"Sorry. I, uh, didn't know you were in your underwear."

He nodded and took the pile of clothes from her arms, his fingers creating static electricity where they met her bare skin. After he'd taken the pants he stared at Bebe with a weird look on his face – was he uncomfortable, too? He waited a few more moments before his lips formed a straight line and he raised his eyebrows.

" _Oh_ -kay. I'm going to get dressed now." He had the tone of voice one might take when speaking to a toddler or a mentally impaired dog.

Bebe laughed, something very forced that turned into a rubbery smile. "Yeah. You do that. Come see me when you've got clothes on."

Kenny waited another few seconds before Bebe realized she had to turn around and open the door. On her way out her nerves forced her to slam the door and she hurried all the way back to her dank costume closet. Once she'd collapsed in front of the sewing machine she gathered two fistfuls of frizzy blonde curls from either side of her head.

"What the fuck is wrong with me?" She said out loud, yanking on the tender hair at her temples. " _'Come see me when you've got clothes on?'_ Acting like I've never seen a guy in his underwear before! I should've just given him the fucking pants! I'm such a spaz!"

She let go of her head and let her forehead smack the edge of the sewing table. Her arms dangled from her limp body, unmoving from embarrassment. Why was she so awkward? Bebe thought she'd been saved from the worries and woes of the average teenage girl like small boobs and a taste for blue eyeshadow, and yet here she was, incapable of forming a normal sentence in front of some guy she worked with.

Someone knocked at the door. Fearing Mr. Gueermo's wrath, Bebe snatched one of Lola's dresses for Act One and jammed it under the sewing machine. Kenny was the one who opened the door. Bebe sighed in relief.

"The pants fit, finally." For good measure, he gave Bebe a turn. Her eyes were latched to his butt like a magnet to a fridge. "Where do you want me to put the rest?"

"In the bin is fine, thanks."

Bebe wished there was music playing so the silence wasn't so grating. Once he'd put away the pants rejects he stopped at the door and turned around to face her with his hands in his pockets. He had the same straight-lipped look on his face that he was wearing when she'd walked in on him almost naked.

"See you at work?" He tried, sensing the newfound tension between them.

The blonde nodded and gave a little grin. "Yup. Half-off Wednesdays…it'll be busy."

"Right. Um, see you then."

He left and Bebe wished she had a sword to fall on in shame. Since when was she so _lame_? Bebe Stevens was the kind of high school girl who made other teenagers green with envy. She drank, smoked, wore thongs, and knew how to talk to guys she had just seen in their underwear. What was happening to her?

She didn't have time to think about this new facet in her personality because Mr. Gueermo's click-clacking high heeled man shoes were coming down the hall. She lifted the foot on the sewing machine and began to fix the jagged hem on Lola's new dress. Even as she worked, the image of Kenny's crotch bulge was glued into her vision.

* * *

The third time Stan Marsh and Wendy Testaburger had sex in the span of their seemingly endless relationship had resulted in a single orgasm from the male half of the equation. They were laying in Wendy's bed, Stan sticky with sweat and breathless whereas Wendy was feeling a bit like she'd spent the afternoon in an overwhelmingly dry desert.

They'd gone out for dinner together after cheer practice, getting Applebee's and then milkshakes on the way to the Testaburger house. Once they'd finished their frosty desserts, Stan had practically pounced once he found out Wendy's parents had a meeting and wouldn't be back until after eight o'clock.

Now, despite the sheer amount of food she'd eaten, Wendy was feeling empty – and guilty. Her new thing that was happening with Kyle was still so _new_. She'd never told him she wouldn't have sex with Stan, but did it need to be said? Having an affair was so complicated. And it was giving her a migraine. Frustrated, Wendy unglued herself from Stan's side and gathered up the clothes off the floor, pulling on a fresh set of pajamas. Her boyfriend sat up on his elbows, watching her carefully.

"What's the matter, babe?"

Wendy didn't think it would be very smart to say, ' _I'm in love with your best friend,_ ' so she opted for nothing.

Stan threw her covers off and began redressing in his slightly-smelly school clothes. He checked his phone before tucking it into his pocket. He came up to Wendy from behind, locking her into a hug. She instantly tensed.

"You've been off. What's going on with you?"

Wendy shook her head. Maybe it was her time of the month. The emotions whirling inside of her head were overwhelming. Frustrated, she pushed away, covering her face as it began to contort with the beginnings of tears. It took Stan a few moments of watching her shoulders rise and fall with quaking breaths to realize she was crying.

"I'm sorry," he cooed, turning her around and bringing her head to his chest, "I didn't mean to make you cry."

She shook her head. "It isn't you. I just have a lot going on right now." In other words, when he left Kyle was going to sneak in and they were going to make out like she hadn't just screwed Stan.

His strong hands smoothed over her hair. "It's okay. Just let it out."

Wendy didn't want to do anything else but lay in bed and sob as her boyfriend held her. They inched over to her mattress and wrapped themselves in her blankets – including the horrendous teal one he'd gotten for her Christmases ago – and she tried to let the tears come as they were wont to do.

However, even as he raked his fingers through her hair and traced patterns into the small of her back, she didn't feel right crying in front of him. It was like crying in front of a stranger – foreign and uncomfortable. Eventually her hiccups subsided and she was calm enough for the tears to dry up in her eyes.

"Are you good?" Stan asked, looking down at her with sickeningly sweet puppy dog eyes.

She sniffed and sat up. "Yeah. I'm sorry, I'm just so stressed out right now with SATs and everything that's been going on with this science club stuff."

He nodded in perfect understanding exactly the way a boyfriend was supposed to do. "I know, babe. Do you want me to pick you up some ice cream before I leave?"

Ice cream sounded amazing. "No, I shouldn't. I'm still full from dinner."

"Okay. I should go. I've got an English paper due tomorrow."

Wendy watched him pull on his coat and grab his car keys. His hair was perfectly mussed from sex and his cheeks were still pink. Bebe was right. He was difficult to look at directly – almost inhumanly perfect looking.

Before he left he kissed her on the cheek. "Want me to pick you up in the morning?"

"No. Kyle and I are going to go out for breakfast to talk about our project."

He gave her a mixed smile. It was something between discontent and trying to look polite. "All right, then. Bye babe. Love you."

"Love you too," she choked.

As Stan left, Wendy wondered if the stress of lying took years off of life. She figured at that point she was going to end up dead at age twenty.

* * *

EW. I hate filler chapters. I really do. This was so boring. I'm so sorry. (But at least it was super short, right?)

Anyway, thanks to all who reviewed and favorited! Thankfully now that I've gotten most of the exposition out of the way the juicier bits of the story are going to start coming into play. See you guys next week! Let me know what you think of the chapter and all that good stuff. Thanks!

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Just wanted to update this chapter and let everyone know I'm going on a tiny break. I'm moving to college and it'll take me a while to get settled and figure out when I have time to write. Not goodbye, just a goodnight, as they say. I'll be back soon. Also, thank you to my two regular reviewers Jigsaw1234 and Silntjr for always giving me support!


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter Twelve**

"Do you think I'm hot?"

This question took Bebe off guard. She froze in the middle of throwing away a soggy cup of soda, eyes widening at Kenny.

"Well? Do you?"

Of course, Bebe knew the answer was _yes._ Yes, Kenny was hot, but who didn't know that already? His Snapchat was constantly full of thirsty selfies and heavily filtered pictures, the audiences at all the school plays were filled to the brim of excited admirers, and Bebe's mouth had been zipped shut around him since she'd accidentally peeped his boxers in the dressing room a few weeks before.

She licked her cherry flavored lip gloss, avoiding eye contact by looking purposefully at a wall sconce. "Every girl at school thinks you're hot."

Bebe continued to clean up the movie theatre, emptying cupholders and picking up soggy paper bags of cold popcorn. Kenny was sweeping, closing behind her, mulling around with words in his head.

He finally huffed. "But that's every girl at school. I'm asking about _you,_ " Kenny elaborated, punctuating his sentence by jabbing Bebe square in the tailbone with the handle of his broomstick.

The sudden contact caused a harsh wave of anger to rip across her skin. Why wasn't her answer enough for him? She gritted her teeth and continued to do a job that was currently paying her a painful minimum wage of nine dollars and thirty cents an hour. Just as she tossed a handful of moist napkins into the trash, Kenny prodded her once more, acting like she was slow-moving cattle.

"What?" She snapped, whipping her head around.

He bit back a smirk. "You never answered my question."

Bebe rolled her eyes and threw a box of Sno-Caps into the trashcan with immense force. "I did. You just didn't like my answer."

Kenny leaned casually on his broom, musing silently before opening his mouth once more. "So, just for confirmation, you _do_ think I'm hot?"

"Yes." She deadpanned, stopping dead in her tracks. "Yes, Kenny, I do think you're hot. Happy now?"

He grinned in glorious relief. "I am. If it helps, I think you're hot, too."

For a second, the world stopped spinning. Kenny McCormick, the hottest guy in school next to Stan Marsh, thought she was _hot_? Even with her frizzy hair, acne, love of hot pink, and gargantuan muffin top? Her whole body was blushing. All the girls at school could eat Bebe's shit. Kenny thought she was hot, despite all the horrible things they had to say about her behind her back.

Kenny brushed by her to sweep the rest of the aisle, breaking Bebe out of her stupor. "We should go out together sometime," he said casually, swinging around his dustpan.

"Like a date?" Bebe tried. Her heart was secretly pounding in her chest but she managed to play it off.

He shrugged. "Sure, yeah. Like a date."

Bebe and Kenny didn't stop smiling like a pair of goofy idiots until they each clocked out at the end of the night, sharing one last smile, and going home their separate ways.

* * *

Wendy and Kyle had to come up with a better secret meeting place than the middle of the woods. Colorado mountain winters were about as harsh as they came and Wendy was surprised her numb butt cheeks hadn't succumbed to frostbite from the sheer, cold bite of the frozen tree stump she had perched on while she waited for her other boyfriend to arrive.

He came stumbling through the night, feet crunching in snow. Kyle squinted until the dim image of Wendy's face illuminated by her phone screen came into focus.

"Wendy?" He called.

She looked up, fear suddenly in her eyes. "Yeah. Hi."

"What's up? Sorry I'm late, I was reading and lost track of the time."

Wendy melted a little. He was _reading._ An actual book, probably. "It's fine. I just wanted to talk to you and I thought we should do it in person."

Kyle gave her half of a crooked grin. "Sounds serious. Is everything okay?" He squeezed next to Wendy on the tree stump and put one of his puffy parka sleeves around her shoulders.

"No. I…slept with Stan again."

The arm around her shoulders tensed. Kyle waited for Wendy to elaborate.

She tried to swallow the lump in her throat. "I don't know why I did it. Sometimes it's just hard to tell Stan that I don't want to," she pleaded, trying to get Kyle to look at her.

"Why are we even doing this?" He asked. His voice was strained. "Like, why are we going through all of this shit just so you can cheat on my best friend?"

"Because we wanted to be together. This was the only way it would work." Even to herself, she sounded unconvincing.

Kyle removed his arm. "We need to end it."

Wendy felt like a bowling ball had been dropped into her belly. "No," she pleaded, sounding desperate, "Don't say that. All of this sneaking around is just until we graduate, and then…."

"'Until we graduate.' You say that like it's nothing. Wendy, we're juniors. We don't graduate for another year and a half. And then we still have to wait through the summer. What if we don't get into Harvard and MIT?"

She latched onto the front of his slippery jacket with her gloved hands. "We _will,_ " she insisted, "We'll get in. And then we can date without worrying about what people here think and things will be normal and we won't have to sneak around anymore."

When Kyle sighed, two puffs of mist evaporated into the frigid air. Wendy didn't sound very convincing when she was begging like a little kid. For a while, they sat still, Wendy hanging onto Kyle's coat and boring holes into her face with her pleading eyes. Suddenly, he pressed his lips to her frozen nose, lips still glued in a straight line.

"I'm sorry."

It was a rare moment when Wendy was confused. She knit her eyebrows together and stared at him. Finally, he cracked a wry smile, using his mittens to hold her cold cheeks.

"I'm willing to wait." He paused, looking between her deep brown eyes for a moment. "Is it wrong of me to ask you to stop having sex with Stan?"

"No," she smiled in relief, cupping his hand closer against her face with her own. "To be honest, he _sucks._ "

They laughed. The tension that had slowly been mounting before disappeared and Kyle brought Wendy's forehead to meet his mouth. His kisses trailed lower until they met his lips, and Wendy was feeling a little sorry she'd let her lips go numb in the cold.

When they parted for breath, headlights broke through the trees, casting shards of light against the sparkling snow. Hurriedly, they broke apart, stumbling to stand. The headlights veered in another direction, breaking apart the shadows on the ground. Suddenly they were gone.

"We should go," Wendy said.

Kyle nodded. "Yeah."

They kissed one last time and parted in opposite directions, each casting looks over their shoulders until the image of their retreating figures were lost in the winter night.

* * *

I'm back! Tell me why I was thinking, "Hey I updated this in like September, right?" and then I checked and I hadn't since July. Anyway, I've settled down in school and I've finally got a routine figured out. Coincidentally I'm on fall break so I had some time to really relax and write. Thanks for reading and thank you for patiently waiting for me to return!


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter Thirteen**

Wendy was grabbing her books out of her locker that Friday evening, looking forward to the weekend. As she began cramming the textbooks she needed for her homework into her Jansport, a gaggle of color guard girls swarmed Milly Larsen's locker only feet away, all giggling and whispering loud enough for Wendy to hear.

"I can't believe you think he's _cute,_ " Sally Turner gushed. The sound of her voice was like nails on a chalkboard to Wendy's ears. "He's so not your type."

Milly's cheeks were pink. It was in that moment that Wendy felt herself suddenly and very uncharacteristically self-conscious. Milly had loose, strawberry blonde hair that screamed effortlessness, the kind of perfectly shapely body that was on that fine line of chubby and too thin, and a smattering of sun kissed freckles across her nose that seemed as if they'd been hand-placed there by an angel. Even though she was in color guard, easily the cringiest afterschool activity South Park High offered, she was probably the most tolerable person out of all the flag-twirling girls. Wendy smoothed her hands over her flat hair and tried to make her broad shoulders look small as she continued to eavesdrop on their conversation.

"Kyle _is_ my type," she said, twirling her combination into the lock.

Every hair on Wendy's body bristled intensely. She paused, textbook in midair.

Sally pursed her lips. "I guess I can get where you're coming from. I mean, he's got a nice ass."

This bitch was not about to go after _both_ of her men. Wendy shoved her AP Chem book into her bag so hard she was surprised it didn't burst out of the bottom.

Milly grinned. "I _know._ And it looks so good in his marching band pants."

"Amen," another girl chided.

"You know what's weird?" Sally mused, texting on her sticker-coated cell phone, "He's never dated anyone."

"You're right," Milly said thoughtfully, beginning to touch up her lip gloss in her locker mirror.

Sally gave a sudden laugh. "Oh my God, Mils, you know what that means? He's a _virgin._ If you two date you're going to have to take his v-card! Is that pressure or what?"

Milly went very quickly from pink to red. "I don't care about that! So what if he's a virgin? Lots of people are."

Another girl prodded Milly playfully. "It'll be both of their first times!"

"Shut up!" Milly cried, looking as if she was secretly enjoying the attention and teasing.

Sally looked up from her phone. "Look, if you want advice, just ask me. I've had plenty of experience."

Wendy forced herself to leave before she got too upset. A million thoughts were racing through her mind as she hurried away, trying to get as far away from their conversation as possible. How _dare_ those girls talk about Kyle as if he were a piece of meat? He was so much more than his cute butt and virginity! There was depth, and intelligence, and sensitivity, and good God, Wendy had never even thought about how he was a virgin. She stopped in her steps, just outside of the door to the parking lot. It was then and there, in the hallways of South Park High with only a janitor to bear witness, that Wendy decided she would be the one to take Kyle's virginity.

* * *

Kyle closed the door to Wendy's bedroom behind himself as he walked in with a smile. They hugged and he threw down his heavy backpack, falling onto Wendy's bed as he reached into it for his laptop.

"You know, we've still got a month until this bibliography is due," Kyle said. She nodded and smoothed her hands over her cashmere sweater in the mirror while he busied himself with starting up his computer. While it loaded, he looked up at her with admiration in his green eyes. "I love your dedication to school."

She smiled in return. Stan had always tried to get Wendy to procrastinate, to 'relax,' or to push off assignments until the last minute. Once or twice he'd even tried to get her to smoke with him just to take the edge off. All that had wanted to make her do was hit him for even suggesting it.

Wendy sat on her bedspread and blinked at Kyle through her long eyelashes. He was aloof, making a grab for the thick AP English book in his bag. As soon as he had dropped it onto the mattress, Wendy made a mad grab for Kyle, smashing her lips against his own.

His eyes widened in shock, his body fighting against Wendy's as she tried to push him into the bed. Confused, he tried his best to kiss her in return, but her sudden aggression had taken him off guard.

"Wendy," he tried to say between kisses. She didn't let him get any other words out.

She began to work the zipper of his hoodie down until it was open, pushing it off his shoulders and arms. Panic began to rise in his throat, forcing anxious color into his neck and cheeks. Wendy straddled his hips, anchoring herself as she pulled her sweater over her head. She wasn't wearing a bra. Kyle was overwhelmed and couldn't think of anything to say as Wendy aggressively kissed him again.

Her fingers touched the cool metal of his zipper and he could feel the blush spreading across his entire body. All he could think was that he wasn't ready for this to be happening so soon, right now.

"Wendy!" Mrs. Testaburger called up the stairs. "Wendy, Stan is here!"

She sat up with eyes so wide they were perfect circles. Kyle's lips failed to form words.

"Fuck," she hissed, "Fuck! Get in the closet, get your stuff and hide!"

He scrambled for his hoodie and backpack, wedging his laptop underneath his arm. Wendy sat up behind him, pushing him with one arm while the other made a mad grab for her sweater on the floor. As soon as Kyle had crawled between her clothes, Wendy slammed her closet door, putting her top back on. Frantically, she rushed to her bed, smoothing out the creases and spritzing a squirt of perfume in the air to cover Kyle's scent. She threw the perfume bottle on her nightstand and struggled to catch her breath.

Stan opened the door. His hair was wet with sweat, meaning he had come from football practice. He smiled at her and kissed her forehead.

"Why is your face all red?"

Wendy gasped for air.

His thick black eyebrows knitted with worry. "Are you okay? You're out of breath, too."

"I'm not feeling too well," she lied.

"There's a bug going around. Come here." He opened his arms.

Hesitantly, Wendy walked into Stan's embrace, knowing Kyle was watching through the slats in her closet door.

He held the back of his hand to her forehead when they pulled apart. "You are pretty warm. You should lay down and get some rest."

Complying, Wendy walked over to her bed and sank into it. Stan wrapped the hideous throw blanket he'd given her for Christmas around her shoulders. He sat next to her, making her lean into his shoulder. Normally, Wendy would've been loving this side of Stan she only got to see on the rare occasion that she was sick, but all she could think about was Kyle watching from her closet.

Stan turned to look at her and Wendy met his eyes. They kissed. Wendy's stomach was squirming with guilt. She put up a hand on Stan's chest, pushing him away.

"What's wrong?" He asked, leaning back.

Wendy shook her head. "You should go."

"What?" His voice had flipped from concerned and caring to accusatory.

She bit her lip. "I'm tired. I want to go to sleep."

Stan took back his arm from around her shoulders. "What has been going _on_ with you lately? It used to be that I never paid enough attention to you and now you never even want me around."

There was no way she was getting into a fight with her boyfriend while the boy she was having an affair with was hiding in her closet.

"It's not like that."

He scoffed. "No, I think it is. I want to know what's been going on. You've never acted like this before."

Wendy was beginning to get irritated. "Stan, stop it. I don't want to fight with you."

"Then tell me what's happening! You won't answer my texts all day, giving me some weak ass excuse, and then you come over and want to have sex. Is that what a relationship is like for you?"

"I never do that! What are you talking about?"

Stan stood up, zipping up his jacket and grabbing his bag. "What's your excuse this time, huh?"

"I just have a lot going on right now. I thought you would understand."

He rolled his eyes in disbelief. "Maybe I should give you some time to figure things out, then."

Wendy looked up. "What?"

"You heard me. Maybe we need to take a break so you can figure out whatever shit you have going on right now."

"Stan…" Wendy stood up, letting the blanket fall from her shoulders. Before she could take another step toward him, he had walked out the door, slamming it behind himself.

Wendy sat back on the mattress and buried her face in her hands.

Slowly, the closet door creaked open. Kyle put his hoodie back on and zipped the fly to his pants, swinging his backpack on his shoulders. For once in his life, he really felt like he didn't know what to do. He gave Wendy one last look before walking out the door.

Wendy was all alone in more ways than one.

* * *

I actually updated! I didn't want this fic to get angsty but that tends to happen with teenagers, so whatever. Let me know what you thought by reviewing, and make sure you stay updated on my crazy writing schedule by subscribing! Thanks!


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter Fourteen**

People could say what they wanted about Bebe Stevens, but she threw _legendary_ parties. Being promiscuous had its benefits in the forms of conveniently older men who would buy her endless amounts of alcohol at the drop of a hat. That Friday, her parents had gone out of town for the night to visit an old friend and foolishly left Bebe behind. They trusted that having Wendy 'spend the night' would keep their daughter in line.

They were wrong.

"Hey guys! Come on in," Bebe grinned, ushering in a small crowd of football players and cheerleaders.

As he came in, Clyde avoided eye contact with Bebe, looking as if he was trying to hide from her. Token, close behind, did the same. He'd recently gotten back together with his ex and Bebe had an inkling that Nicole wasn't aware of their brief escapade underneath the bleachers post-breakup.

Bebe furrowed her eyebrows. "Where's Stan?"

In the living room, Wendy's ears stood at attention.

One of the players shrugged. "Dunno. Asked him if he wanted to go after practice and he said he had homework or something."

Wendy deflated in relief. She still didn't know how she was going to smooth things over with Stan without having sex with him and Kyle had been acting weird since she'd pounced just a few days ago. She had no plans to drink or smoke at the party, but it was nice to take a night off from work and cheerleading and school to hang out with her friends, even if she ended up always being the one to hold back hair while they puked.

Bebe's eyes widened in surprise as Kenny clambered in after Red. "Kenny?"

He flashed her a smile. "Heard there was a party. I brought weed."

"Oh. Cool. Thanks."

Kenny stepped inside and kicked the snow off his boots. He smelled like cigarettes poorly masked with cologne. When they made eye contact, Bebe's skin bristled with the memory of their shift at the Bijou. How was she supposed to act around him now that he'd called her hot to her face? Sure, she'd had flings with plenty of guys, but they were usually in it for the hand jobs, not for her looks.

Thankfully she didn't think too deeply about it because Kenny was quick to plop on the sofa next to Wendy and flash her a smile. Instantly, she wondered if Kyle had told him about their affair. He nudged her with his shoulder.

"You look down."

Wendy shrugged and took a sip of her pomegranate juice. "You know me. I'm just always stressed."

"Want to…?" He mimed pinching a joint between his index and thumb, bringing the gesture to his lips.

She shook her head. "Not while my brain cells are still developing."

Kenny wasn't too let down. "I get that. How're things with you and Stan?"

Why was that the only thing people seemed to care about these days? "They're fine."

The blond looked around the party. "He isn't here."

"Yeah. I know."

"Sorry for asking."

She gave him a forced smile. "It's fine. Sorry. I'm just tense. How's the musical going?"

He smiled. "Good. Great, actually. The whole cast is working really hard."

Wendy couldn't help but think the glow Kenny gained while talking about the musical was adorable. "I'm glad. Have things been sorted out with the stage manager yet?"

She'd heard through the grapevine that the previous stage manager, Butters, had been fired for being 'incompetent.' A small part of her was smug because she'd always gotten the highest praise from Mr. Gueermo about being a proficient stage manager. Wendy had an amazing knack for multitasking, both with her men and her work.

"No. Poor Butters, man. He cried for a week." Kenny dug a beer bottle out of his coat pocket and twisted the cap off, taking a swig.

"Is the position still open? Maybe I can help, if there's no one else interested."

He removed the mouth of the bottle from his lips. Wendy's eyes lingered on his missing tooth, wondering when he was going to get that fixed – if ever. "You serious?"

She nodded. "I miss theatre. I've got so much on my plate at this point that I don't think taking on one more job will do too much harm."

"God bless you, Wendy," Kenny sighed. "A good cast is nothing without you."

Flattery got a person everywhere with Wendy. She smiled humbly. "Thanks. Just text me when the next rehearsal is and I'll come in and talk to Mr. Gueermo about it."

Kenny put an arm around her shoulders and squeezed in a friendly side hug. Wendy patted his hand.

Across the room, Bebe sipped her Mike's Hard Lemonade, thinking. Seeing Kenny affectionate with another girl – her best friend, even – was making her stomach hurt. She shook her head as their hug broke apart and watched Clyde fiddling with his phone in the corner.

Suddenly, there was a round of loud knocking at the door. Bebe's parents weren't due until noon tomorrow. Who could that have been?

She made her way through the small gaggle of teenagers in her living room, looking through the peephole. More people? As soon as she opened the door, they forced their way inside, holding six packs of beer and yelling greetings to the people in the living room. Every time Bebe opened her mouth to protest, another surge of people made their way inside.

"What the fuck?"

People were packed onto the couches and she could already spot a wet spot on the carpet from spilled alcohol. Someone turned on a speaker and the room was filled with the sound of shitty trap music. She recognized a few of the people from North Park parties and from around school, but the overwhelming majority were absolute strangers. Her eyes flashed with anger in the direction of Clyde, who had apparently invited Kevin. They were talking in hushed tones in the shade of a potted plant, trying to look small.

"Who are you people?" She shouted over the noise. "Get out of my house!"

A handful of uninvited guests heard her and gave her nasty looks. Before her blood could even begin to simmer, Wendy approached her from behind, putting a hand on her shoulder.

"Bebe," she called. "What's going on? Did you invite all these people?"

Wendy may have been a charismatic social butterfly but she wasn't one for socializing with large groups of intoxicated strangers.

"I don't know," Bebe hissed. "I can't do this right now. All I wanted to do was have a kickback with my friends. I'm going outside."

Bebe stomped out through the back door, hoping the cold air would cool her hot head. She ran her hands over her face, feeling the bite of the winter air in her lungs. She took a deep breath and all she could smell was the earthy scent of pot. A quick sweep around her back patio with her eyes revealed Kenny sitting on a plastic lawn chair, pipe pressed between his lips.

"Thank God it's just you," she sighed, plopping into a chair next to him.

He said nothing, breathing smoke through his nose, offering the pipe to her. She brought it to her mouth. He cupped her hand and lit it. Bebe took a deliciously long breath, feeling the hot burn in her throat. Kenny gave her an appreciative smile. To him, there was nothing more attractive than a girl who knew her way around pot.

"Who invited the fucking hoard?" Kenny asked.

She shook her head, crossing her arms over her chest. "I have no idea, but I would love to kill whoever did."

"Oh, well. We can just sit out here and smoke if you want."

A smile tugged at her mouth. "That sounds perfect."

They spent another half hour passing the pipe back and forth until there was nothing left in the bowl. Both feeling warm and tingly all over, they watched the twinkling stars in the sky, content with each other's company.

"This is nice," Kenny remarked.

Bebe nodded. "I agree."

"Where are your parents?"

"One of their college friends just had a baby or something. They're spending the night in Evergreen."

Kenny was thinking. "Don't they like…hate each other?"

She turned to her right and watched him thoughtfully. "Yeah. Yeah, I guess they do."

His eyes turned to the frosty grass. "My parents don't like each other either."

It was a fact very well known to the community of South Park that Kenny's parents detested each other. His house was all the way down by the old train tracks and sometimes when Bebe took out the trash at night she could hear them screaming like banshees at each other. There was a pang of sympathy in her heart for their children each night they went at each other's throats.

"I'm sorry. Having shitty parents is the worst." Her head lolled into his shoulder.

He might've been too high to notice. "Yeah. Mine are addicted to meth."

"Meth?" Sure, Bebe had heard rumors, but she never wanted to indulge them.

He sniffled. "That's why my brother moved out. He's got an apartment in town now. I want to move out, too."

"You should, if it would make you happy."

His cheek fell to meet the top of her head. "I don't mind the yelling so much. It really gets to my sister, though. If I ever moved out I would take her with me."

Bebe smiled. "You're a good person."

Kenny's cheek made a movement against her hair. "Thanks."

Maybe it was the weed making her loose, but Bebe found herself talking without a filter. "My parents aren't addicted to meth, but I'm pretty sure my mom's an alcoholic and my dad has cheated on her with his students at least five times."

"That's shitty. I'm sorry."

Her throat felt tight. "They always get better during the holidays, but then everything goes back to normal, and my dad sleeps in the guest room and starts to cheat again. I don't get why they stay together when they can't stand each other."

"Adults think different, I guess." For support, Kenny put his arm around her.

All his touch made her do was want to cry more. "I don't get it."

"You don't have to."

Bebe looked at his face. He was dimly illuminated by the glow from the living room and the waxing moon in the sky. He had nice cheekbones, she decided, as her head sagged back into his shoulder.

"I'm tired," she whispered.

He unwrapped his scarf from his neck and bound it around her neck. "Go to sleep, then."

"You promise you won't make a move on me while I'm unconscious?"

His chuckle was low and deep against Bebe's ear. "Wouldn't dream of it."

* * *

Yay! I don't know how I'm in college and I still have time to update this fanfiction. This is seriously getting so long that I feel bad for anyone who starts to read it from the beginning. Anyway, let me know what you think, what you'd like to see, anything like that! Follow for my random updating schedule. Thanks!


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter Fifteen**

Costuming Lola was a curse. Bebe had gone through at least fifteen dresses in the past two hours, trying to find one that satisfied her, to no avail. She was an absolute diva – which would be excusable if she had any amount of talent – and if one stitch was out of place she sent back the entire dress. Bebe was at her wits end trying to satisfying Mr. Gueermo and Lola at the same time, which was proving to be impossible.

The door opened to the costume room and Bebe whipped around, ready to breathe fire at Lola. Her expression disappeared when she met eyes with Kenny. He had the last round of dresses tossed over his arm.

"I brought back the rejects."

Bebe took them and trying to still her rapidly beating heart. She'd gotten high or drunk or a combination of the two with plenty of boys before and done everything embarrassing under the sun in front of them. She'd thrown up on at least three different people in the past year, at least. But she had never been the kind of drunk who overshared. Talking to someone other than Wendy about her parents' rocky marriage made her feel as if an angry baby alligator had latched onto her throat. Thankfully, Kenny wasn't acting any different.

"Thanks."

She began to hang them back up on the rack. Kenny stood back, observing quietly.

"I've said it before, but I still think you would've made a way better Audrey than Lola."

Bebe gave him a smug look and continued putting the hangers back on the clothes rack. "I don't think so. I overhear your rehearsals all the time, you guys sound great."

He rolled his eyes. "Sure. But you would've sounded amazing."

He was laying it on thick because he knew she was regretting opening up to him the other night. Bebe could tell. She suppressed a smile and examined the last dress in the pile, holding it out.

"Why did I send this out? It's way too big for her."

Kenny grabbed the dress and slipped it off the hanger. "Here. You try it on."

Bebe stared at the dress in his hands. It was a tight little purple number with two rows of sparkly black buttons down the front. It was certainly way too big for Lola, but it also had the potential to be much too small for Bebe.

"I don't know. I don't think I should be trying on the dresses just because I feel like it."

He pushed it toward her. "Don't worry about it. If you get in trouble I'll tell Mr. Gueermo it was my fault."

Bebe grabbed the dress and felt the silky fabric in her fingers. Bebe wasn't a coward. The littlest bit of peer pressure was all it took for her to do anything.

"Fine. Close your eyes."

He held up his palms and pressed them into his eye sockets.

She peeled off her sweatshirt and wiggled out of her leggings, pulling the dress over her head. Her arms strained to reach the zipper.

"Could you help me zip it up?"

Kenny wordlessly moved to her and grabbed the zipper, running it up the length from her tailbone to her neck. Bebe didn't move. He brushed his knuckles along the curve in the small of her back. His breath was soft and warm on her ear. Bebe felt herself turning to face him as if gravity had seized control of her body.

His blue eyes were strangely intense. He moved his gaze to her lips and back to her eyes, moving in slowly and quietly. Bebe closed her eyes and waited.

The door to the costume room blew open. Bebe jumped back into the wall. Kenny took a step back, running a hand over his mouth guiltily. Lola stood in the doorframe, dressed in a hideous skirt and blouse combo and fuming.

"Good to know you're goofing off in here trying on costumes instead of getting me something decent to wear," she spat in Bebe's direction.

Before Bebe could open her mouth, Kenny moved forward to soothe the beast.

"Sorry. It was my idea."

Lola lifted an accusatory finger. "And _you._ You're missing precious rehearsal time right now. Mr. Gueermo is pissed."

Kenny and Bebe met eyes and looked away. "Okay," he sighed. "I'll go."

With one last poisonous look, Lola and Kenny left the costume room, leaving Bebe feeling confused and alone.

* * *

Back in her normal clothes, Bebe locked up the costume room, depositing the key with a janitor before making her way out into the parking lot to go home. Silently, she let herself into the auditorium, watching Mr. Gueermo giving passive aggressive notes to the cast as they sat in the audience and took notes. She slid into a seat and waited patiently.

"Lola, you're dismissed," Mr. Gueermo called.

Haughtily, Lola stood, swinging her floral print Jansport over her shoulder and moving down the aisle.

Once she'd locked eyes with Bebe, her self-righteous expression turned to that of someone who had just stepped in a cowpie. "Oh. It's _you._ "

Bebe didn't respond. A wise man once said if you feed a stray it will always come back for more.

"I have to talk to you. In private. Come with me."

"No," Bebe hissed.

Before Lola could retort, Mr. Gueermo screamed at them from his spot on the stage. "You two! Get out of here!"

Bebe grudgingly gathered her school supplies and followed Lola into the lobby outside of the auditorium. As soon as she tried to leave for the parking lot, Lola stepped in front of her, narrowing her eyes.

"I noticed that you've been getting pretty close with Kenny lately."

"And? How is that any of your business?"

Lola raised her eyebrows. "I didn't say it was. But I have some words of advice for you."

"I'm not interested," Bebe said coolly, trying to sidestep Lola.

Lola planted herself directly in front of her. "I'm not stupid, okay? I know what I interrupted in the costume closet today." Bebe flushed pink and let Lola keep talking. "I know you may think that Kenny likes you, but he doesn't. He may have even convinced you that he does. But I have news for you, Bebe. Kenny is only interested in you because you're _easy_. You're easy _and_ you're an Archive girl. He doesn't like you. He just wants to have sex with you."

Bebe was stunned into silence – something incredibly rare. She felt as if Lola had grabbed her heart was squeezing it within an inch of its life. There was no way that what she was saying was true, was there?

"I know him better than you, Bebe. Trust me on this one. There's no way that Kenny likes you. He's just going to use you to have sex and then he's going to drop you like the piece of trash you are to him."

She didn't have time to process what Lola had just put on her because the rest of the cast and crew spilled in a huge gush out of the auditorium. Bebe grabbed her car keys out of her pocket and shoved Lola out of the way, desperate to have time alone to think about what she'd just been told.

"Bebe!" Kenny called over the crowd.

She shook her head and continued into the parking lot, eyes beginning to burn. _Piece of trash. Easy. Archive girl._ Was that all she was?

Bebe sped out of the parking lot, the only thing left in her wake skid marks on the pavement and a very confused boy in the lobby.

* * *

Kyle, Stan, and Kenny tried to hang out when they all had time – something that didn't happen very often. That night was one of those rare occurrences. Kenny was still trying to process what had taken place at rehearsal just a few hours before and failing to do so. Stan and Kyle were absorbed in a game of Overwatch.

"This blows," Stan sighed, tossing his controller on the couch. "Want to smoke?"

That snapped Kenny out of his stupor. "Sure."

Within minutes, they had a pipe that was ready to go. Kyle watched Stan and Kenny pass it back and forth. Instantly, they both seemed to relax, the tension melting away from their shoulders. Lately, wind down sessions with Tchaikosvky and Bach just weren't doing the trick. Maybe he needed to come at his stress from a different angle.

"Let me take a hit," he said.

Kenny and Stan stared at Kyle like he'd just grown a set of extra limbs.

"Really? You sure, man?" Kenny asked.

Kyle nodded fervently. "Yeah. I'm sure."

Stan shrugged. "Don't worry about getting high. It takes a few times before you really feel it."

Kenny helped Kyle handle the pipe. He took a deep breath, feeling the hot air fill his lungs. Immediately, he pulled away, sputtering smoke and coughing. Stan clapped him on the back.

"Yeah, it hurts like a bitch. You get used to it."

"At least it's not a bong," Kenny mused. "Those burn like nothing else."

Stan nodded in agreement. Kyle chugged the remnants of a water bottle that was laying on the floor, trying to rid his throat of the feeling as if it has just been run through a sink disposal.

"Fuck," he gasped. "How do you guys do that shit all the time?"

Kenny shrugged. "It's not glamorous. But it's sure as hell a good way to wind down after a long day."

The timer upstairs went off on the stove. Stan jumped off the sofa. "Bagel Bites are done."

He disappeared up the stairs from the basement, leaving Kenny and Kyle alone. Kenny took another hit. His eyes were rimmed with watery red. He set the pipe down on the coffee table and relaxed back into the couch, letting his high warm him up all over. Kyle wondered if he was feeling high. He wasn't exactly sure what it was supposed to feel like.

"What's been going on with you, man?" Kenny asked.

"Too much. I'm pretty much in class or doing homework every hour of every day."

Kenny shook his head. "That's shitty. You're supposed to be enjoying your youth, fucking off and getting your dick sucked and whatever."

"I know. I've been trying."

The blond boy's interest was piqued. His eyebrows raised and he eyed Kyle from his spot on the couch. "You're getting your dick sucked and you didn't tell us?"

Kyle laughed. "No. But I think she tried the other day."

"And you stopped her? Dude, that's whack."

He shook his head. "I'm going to tell you something that you can't tell anyone else."

"Okay. I'm as serious as I can be while totally high."

Kyle looked Kenny in the eyes. "Wendy is cheating on Stan with me."

That killed Kenny's high in an instant. "Whoa. Really?"

Kyle nodded. "And we've made out and done some stuff but we haven't had sex. I think she wants to have sex. But I'm a virgin and I don't want to be terrible at it."

"Jesus Christ. Well…I'm Stan's friend just as much as I'm your friend, man. So, I'll give you some advice. Just be real nice to her when you do it, all right? I've got the feeling that Stan treats her like a tackling dummy in the sack and that shit isn't okay."

The redhead wished he had a notepad to write down Kenny's advice. "Okay."

"But as Stan's friend? Cut that out. It isn't right."

"Kenny, you keep a secret collection of underage porn on your Google Drive."

Kenny sat on this for a moment. "Yeah, you're right. I guess I'm not in any position to be dishing out moral judgements."

Stan finally came down the stairs, carting a tray of Bagel Bites. "Food's done."

The boys spent a wordless night eating mini pizzas and playing video games, each one thinking about the deep shit they were in.

* * *

HAPPY HALLOWEEN! I hope you guys had a fun time. The only reason why all the kids smoke so much pot and drink so much is because that's _exactly_ what I did and what I do in college. Learn from my mistakes, children. Anyway, let me know what you thought, I'll see you guys next week (probably) for Chapter 16!


	16. Chapter 16

**Chapter Sixteen**

Wendy and Bebe hadn't been able to hang out in a long time. Bebe was working at the Bijou, costuming _Little Shop of Horrors,_ or leading the cheer squad after school. Wendy, on the other hand, was patching things up with Stan while trying to practice her presentation for nationals. It didn't help that she was juggling two guys at the same time while trying to study for her upcoming SAT.

They sat on Bebe's carpeted floor, sharing a party size bag of Cheesy Poofs and watching _Bridget Jones's Diary_ on her little TV that was balanced precariously on a delicate legged end table. There were blankets strewn across the room, throw pillows tossed in every corner, and an emptied wine bottle perched on the edge of Bebe's desk. A pile of dirty laundry large enough to hide a hoard of small children was continuing to grow around the long-lost shape of Bebe's hamper. Wendy cast a look to her best friend and rested her head on her shoulder with a sigh.

"What's wrong?" Bebe asked, mouth full of cheesy snacks.

Wendy bit her lips. "I don't know. Everything?"

The blonde chuckled into her can of Dr. Pepper. "You can say that again."

"Tell me about your life. We haven't talked in forever."

Bebe thought for a moment. "I think Kenny McCormick has a crush on me."

Wendy lifted her head off of her friend's shoulder. "What?"

"Yeah. He tried to kiss me the other day."

Wendy was so taken aback she had to stand, feeling as if the world was spinning around her. "Are you fucking kidding me?"

Bebe looked up from her phone in surprise. "Excuse me?"

"Did you forget what he put you through?" Wendy was truly in a state of shock and disbelief.

The blonde set down her Dr. Pepper stoically. "No."

In fact, all of the shitty things he had done to her in the past – from blackmailing her to putting her naked pictures on the internet – sat in the forefront of her mind at every waking moment. He even scared her so bad that she cut open her forehead and now had to double up on concealer in that one spot for the rest of her life just to hide the scar.

"Then why are you okay with him trying to be with you? Bebe, I was there when you sent that picture to him. You were sobbing. Did you just magically forgive him overnight?"

The answer to Wendy's question was _no._ No, Bebe hadn't forgiven him. She'd been through the bullying at school and guys trying to come on to her because they'd seen her topless. It was shitty. After Christmas break, it lightened up, but if Kenny was willing to at least _attempt_ to apologize, shouldn't Bebe give him a chance to make it up to her?

"He's a slimy piece of shit, Bebe."

It was always a little bit of a shock to hear Wendy using foul language. "I don't know. I think he's changed."

Wendy scoffed and rolled her brown eyes. "Men don't change."

On any other day, Bebe would've agreed with that statement. "I really think he has."

"What has he done to show you that he's sorry? Are you just about to fall for his shit because you think he's hot?"

Maybe she was. Since when was it Wendy's business how Bebe decided to fuck up her life?

"Why are you so pissed right now? It's not like you were the one who had your pictures put in The Archive."

She threw her hands up in the air. "Because! Guys are assholes and I really care about you and don't want to see you get hurt by one of Stan's stupid friends!"

"Oh. This is about Stan." It all fell into place in Bebe's mind.

Wendy threw her head back in exasperation. "When is it ever _not_ about Stan?"

That was a really good question. "What happened now?"

"Nothing new. We just got into a fight a while back because he thinks I'm too busy for him. And even if I am, he's known that school will _always_ take priority over our relationship."

"What changed? Even if you had homework assignments coming out of your ass you guys still managed to have a date night like every week."

What Wendy wanted to say was, ' _I'm dating Kyle behind his back now,'_ but she realized dropping that bomb on her best friend might not have been the safest choice. "God, I wish I could tell you."

" _Bitch._ You cannot say that and then not tell me."

"I can't tell you. Because you'd tell everyone."

Bebe pretended to be offended. "You're probably right. But that depends on what it is you're going to tell me. I can keep my mouth shut if it's a really good secret." Kind of like how no one at school besides Clyde had found out that she'd caught the clap last year.

Wendy shook her head. "I'm not going to tell you anything."

" _Wendy_ ," Bebe groaned, grabbing her arm and shaking her. "Tell me. Tell me, tell me, tell me – "

"Fine! I'll tell you if you shut up."

Bebe's lips clamped shut and she looked at Wendy with wide, pleading eyes. There was nothing that sated her unending desire for gossip more than a juicy secret.

Wendy's brown eyes roamed the room, afraid to meet with Bebe's. Divulging her secret to someone meant she was giving a huge piece of her trust away. It hadn't even needed to be said between herself and Kyle that no one could know about their affair. Forget about Wendy's trust, Bebe might break _his._ What kind of a horrible person would Wendy look like if Bebe slipped up and told someone? Then again, the sheer amount of pressure and stress that was put on her by dating her boyfriend's best friend behind his back was too much. Telling her best friend would help, she tried to convince herself.

" _I'm cheating on StanwithKylebehindhisback."_ She whispered.

"What?"

"I'm cheating on Stan! With Kyle! Behind his back!"

Bebe's jaw dropped. "You're doing _what_? Holy shit! Holy shit."

"For a while now. You were right about me having a crush on him. Bebe, I like Kyle _so_ much."

The blonde was still in shock. "I mean, I knew you liked him but Jesus Christ. Cheating on Stan? With his best friend? That's…I don't know, Wendy, that's pretty low."

"You think I don't know that? I hate myself for it. But even if I broke up with Stan and started to date Kyle, it would ruin their friendship and we would never hear the end of it around school. We're just going to keep it on the down low until we both move to MIT and Yale."

"What if you don't get in?"

Wendy pulled back. "What do you mean?"

"I mean those are Ivy League schools. You guys are both really smart but so is every other kid in the country trying to get in. There's a good chance neither one of you will make it. Even worse – what if one of you makes it in and the other one has to stay here? That would _suck._ "

Bebe's words hung in the air like wet gym socks on a laundry line. Wendy had never considered the possibility of one of them getting in and the other being left behind. What would they do? Kyle was destined to go to MIT and become an engineer. Would Wendy have to go to some second-rate school and cross her fingers that she'd be accepted to Yale as a transfer? Would Kyle even wait for her?

"Oh my God. I didn't mean to make you _cry_."

Wendy hadn't even realized that tears had started to form in her eyes until one rolled down her cheek, salty and betraying. She wiped it away and sniffed.

"What have I gotten myself into, Bebe?"

The blonde reached forward and wrapped her arms around her best friend. "Deep shit, Wendy." She kissed the top of her head. "But that's all right. I've been there, too. I'll help you out of it."

* * *

Kenny and Bebe always seemed to end up on concessions together. Bebe rang up the snacks and drinks while Kenny manned the popcorn machine and kept the ICEE machines from running empty. Every time he shuffled from the candy display to the counter, he brushed against Bebe's ass, making her prickle with anger.

The last customer ordered their candy and made their way into the theatre. The doors closed behind them with a satisfying _clunk._ Bebe had been left alone with him.

"Bebe – "

"Gotta get more receipt paper," she said, shoving past him to enter the supply closet.

Kenny followed close behind. The closet couldn't have been bigger than four feet by four feet. He stood directly behind her as she turned around, grasping a roll of white paper on a plastic tube on her hand. With a charming smile, he leered over her, the gap where his canine was missing in plain view. Bebe grunted and pushed past him again, punching keys on the register and replacing the still-full receipt paper. Kenny eyed her suspiciously.

"Let's talk about – "

"Oh, wow. Out of Sour Patch Kids. I'll go get some more from the back."

'The back' was a glorified term for a stack of cardboard boxes tucked behind the nacho cheese pumps that held assorted candy displays. Bebe bustled toward it, stacking and unstacking boxes until she found the one that held the Sour Patch Kids and gummy bears. Kenny watched with a sulking expression as she refilled the display in the glass candy case.

Before he could open his mouth again, the manager came into the lobby, looking weary as always. "Kenny, I need you on the ticket booth. My wife slipped on some ice at home and I've got to take her into urgent care."

"Be there in a minute."

Their boss gave a quick salute and went out the doors again. Bebe refused to lift her eyes from straightening the candy boxes. Kenny stood threateningly close to her, forcing her to breathe in his heavy scent of cigarettes, weed, and Axe body spray.

"You're going to have to talk to me eventually."

Bebe didn't respond. A customer came into the lobby, cheeks red from the cold.

"Hey, where do I buy my ticket? There's no one at the box office."

"Sorry. I'm coming."

Kenny walking outside behind the customer and Bebe was left alone with her thoughts. Wendy's reminder from the night before was echoing in her mind. _Are you just about to fall for his shit because you think he's hot?_ As a matter of fact, she really _was_ about to until Wendy had so poisonously said that. She liked Kenny for reasons other than him being hot. He was a good performer, a great older brother, he…Bebe drew a blank. She would've said that he had been kind to her – letting her fall asleep on him while she was high at that party – but he _had_ gone against his word and put her nudes online where anyone could save them.

This dead-ended trail of thought lasted Bebe all throughout her next four hours at work until the Bijou closed. Was Kenny even genuinely interested in her, or did he really just want to have sex with her like Lola had said?

The last customers left the theater and Butters descended from the projector room, his pale forehead wet with sweat. He removed his hat and wiped slicks of his white-blonde hair aside before putting it back on. He gave Bebe a smile.

"Hey, there, Bebe. Everything clean behind the counter?"

She nodded. "Yeah. I've still got to clean the theater with Kenny, though."

On cue, Kenny entered from the box office, stretching. A strip of his golden skin peeked through from between his shirt and the waistband of his pants. Bebe swallowed.

"Ready to clean?" He asked her.

"Actually, I forgot that my mom is sick and needs help at home. Is there any way you can cover me, Butters?" Bebe was glad she had minor acting experience to help her through her bluff.

The blond boy shrugged. "I guess so."

Kenny's nostrils flared. Bebe grabbed her purse and coat, whipping her car key out in an attempt to make it out of the theater as soon as possible.

Before she could even put a hand on her car door handle, Kenny slammed his palm onto the driver's side window. Bebe jumped and turned around to face him.

"What is going on with you?" He asked, his voice strained.

"Nothing. Nothing is going on, I just want to go home."

He rolled his eyes. "Right. I want you to tell me the truth. Why are you acting so weird?"

"I'm not."

Kenny looked like he really wanted to yell. "Bullshit."

Bebe was starting to get angry. "I'm not acting weird. All I want to do is go home, so can you take your hand off of my car, please?"

"Is this about me trying to kiss you?"

She blushed at the memory. "No!"

"Then what is it about?"

"It's about _everything_! It's about me accidentally sending you my nudes, and you using them to blackmail me to audition for your stupid fucking high school musical, and you putting naked pictures of me on the internet for your creepy, horny little friends to jack off to, and it's about you only wanting to have sex with me because I'm the school slut for letting Clyde fuck me one time even though we weren't dating, because how on Earth could a guy like you ever like an ugly girl like me with a nasty muffin top and lopsided tits!"

Kenny didn't answer. Instead, he pulled his phone out of his pocket and began typing on it. Bebe's body was still shaking from her outburst. He turned his phone around and showed her the Google Drive folder. Its ominous title, 'The Archive,' stared at her tauntingly through the screen. Bebe finally met eyes with him.

"What about it?"

He pressed the white trash can button and the entire thing was gone in an instant. Bebe felt like the cold air had frozen her blood.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I should've never done that to you. You didn't deserve it. None of those girls deserved it. I made The Archive when I was a gross little sixth grader and I regret it."

"Kenny, stop."

"No! I'm not going to stop. I should've never, ever blackmailed you into auditioning for some shitty high school play that won't even matter in ten years. To tell the truth, I think I knew I had a crush on you even then and I just wanted to have an excuse to spend more time with you."

He'd said it. There was no turning back. Kenny fucking McCormick, the second hottest guy in the eleventh grade, had a crush on Bebe Stevens.

"I royally fucked up. I don't think there's anything I can do to fix all the awful shit I've done to you."

Bebe's heart wrenched as Kenny's voice began to tighten.

"And I don't think you're ugly. God, you're beautiful and you don't even know it. You don't have a nasty muffin top. You don't even have a muffin top at all, you've got the _perfect_ body – and good God, Bebe, your tits aren't lopsided in the least."

"Really?"

"Your tits are fucking perfect."

That was all he had needed to say.

"Kenny…did you really just delete The Archive for me?"

He nodded. "My friends are going to hate me until they realize that free porn is a click away on the internet."

Bebe looked out on the quiet street, watching the ice melt placed on the streets sparkle as the headlights of a lonely car drove by.

"I really like you. A lot."

She bit back a smile. "I like you, too. But you did do a lot of horrible, horrible shit to me."

"God, I know. I fucked up. I think I ruined whatever chance we had at being together or even just being friends."

She shrugged. "I wouldn't be so sure."

"Really?" The hint of boyish hopefulness in his voice made Bebe laugh.

"You still owe me that date, remember?"

He grinned and she melted. Before any more could be said, Butters exited the Bijou.

"Are either one of you going to get in here and help me clean or do I have to do it all myself?"

Bebe and Kenny smiled at each other one last time. "Go home," he said, opening the door for her. "You've got a sick mom to look after."

"I was lying about that," she admitted, climbing into the car.

He smirked. "I know."

Kenny closed the door and waited for Bebe's little red Volkswagen to disappear from view before stepping inside of the theater to help Butters clean.

* * *

Finals are kicking my ass. The college struggle is real. Also, with this chapter, I hit 100 pages in my Word document! Yay! Sorry for taking so long to update but between my double major and finals and maintaining a social life it's been pretty hard to find the motivation to update this fanfiction. Not to worry, it's almost over and then I'll consider taking a peek at the plot to the sequel, set during their senior year. Let me know what you think! Thanks!


	17. Chapter 17

**Chapter Seventeen**

Bebe couldn't remember the last time she'd gone on a genuine date. Sure, Clyde took her to Buffalo Wild Wings a few times and then she gave him a couple of dry handjobs in the passenger seat as thanks, but now she had an _actual, exciting_ date with a cute boy who thought she had nice boobs. With butterflies in her stomach – they could've been knots, but she was too nervous to tell the difference – she smoothed her hands over her mass of frizzy blonde curls and gave herself one last reassuring grin in the mirror.

There was a knock at the front door. Bebe's mom, the snoop that she was, craned her head from the kitchen and tried to catch a glimpse of her daughter's date. Bebe shot her a poisonous look before switching to sugary sweet to open the door.

"Hi," she grinned, tightening her grip on her Kate Spade crossbody.

He smiled back and Bebe noticed he had given himself a fresh shave for the occasion. "Hey."

"Who is it, honey?" Her mom yelled from the kitchen.

Bebe wanted to shank her mother in that moment but figured murder probably wasn't the best way to start her first date with a boy that she really liked. "It's Kenny, mom. He's taking me out today, remember?"

Mrs. Stevens emerged from the kitchen, wiping her hands on an embroidered towel and looking the epitome of a housewife in her little plaid apron. She looked like she was the one going on a date instead of her daughter – her hair had been set in curlers the night before and she had a criminal amount of hot pink lipstick on.

"Well don't you look handsome!" She said.

It was a true observation. He'd donned a white collared shirt with a delicate blue gingham pattern and had the sleeves rolled up high enough for Bebe to get a mouthwatering glimpse at the muscles in his forearms. In his worn-out Levi's and scuffed work boots, he was looking impeccably like the type of boy Bebe had dreamed about since binge watching every old Western romance movie in her house in the eighth grade.

He rubbed the back of his head, ruffling his blond hair. "Thanks, Mrs. Stevens."

"What are you two going to do today?"

Bebe herself had no clue.

"It's a surprise," Kenny said mysteriously, flashing Bebe a playful grin.

Mrs. Stevens was glowing. She'd never really liked Clyde or Token or any of the boys Bebe used to bring around the house – probably because they reminded her too much of the boys that _she_ had messed around with in high school. Bebe's mom decided that Kenny was a good choice with one humble nod.

"How cute. Well, I won't keep you two any longer. Have fun."

"Thanks, mom." Bebe grudgingly gave her mother a kiss on the cheek and turned to face her date. "Ready?"

He nodded and waved goodbye to Mrs. Stevens before opening the door for Bebe. She wasn't used to being treated like more than a walking source of blowjobs before – it was refreshing.

They walked down the sidewalk to Kenny's beat-up Chevy and climbed inside. She could tell he'd just cleaned the interior. There wasn't a trace of dust or dirt on any surface and a fresh Cinna-Berry car freshener in the shape of a pine tree was hanging from the rear-view mirror. She buckled her seatbelt and Kenny turned on the radio.

"Where are we going?" She asked, trying to spark up conversation before the silence got too stiff.

"A place I went a lot as a kid."

Bebe played with the pale pink purse in her lap, the nervousness still chewing at her gut. She looked to her left and admired Kenny's well-chiseled face. How was this even happening? Just the week before he'd spilled his guts to her, deleted The Archive, and then planned some kind of romantic date all for _her._ She never felt like she'd deserved anything more than a fuckboy like Clyde.

The drive was quiet but neither one of them minded. Not talking gave them both a chance to adjust to their anxiety over their first date and get used to spending time in each other's presence. Kenny stole looks at her when they stopped at red lights.

"You look pretty," he stated, turning down a rough gravel road.

Bebe self-consciously ran her hands over her hair and rubbed her lips together to ensure equal lip-gloss distribution. "Thanks. You look good, too."

His only answer was a wry smile as they pulled into a small dirt patch in the middle of the woods. Just ahead, there was a sandy bank that opened up to a clear, crystal lake. Low hanging branches reached out over the water and hung with ivy, looking exactly like some tacky painting that might be hanging up in a dentist's office.

Kenny got out of his truck and reached into the back, grabbing a variety of boxes with handles and laying them at the shore. Bebe double checked her makeup in the mirror before getting out of the car, watching him unpack their date.

"What is this?" She asked, pulling out a white bucket with a yellow lid. There was a black grate on top with little holes. She pulled it up and gasped at the sight of tiny, swimming minnows.

"Bait," he answered.

Bebe's heart dropped. Her eyes followed the towering sight of two slender fishing poles on his shoulder making their way to the shore of the lake. He wanted to take her _fishing_? What kind of romantic date was fishing?

She faked a smile. "We're fishing?"

He nodded. "It's something I really like to do so I thought it might be nice to do it with you."

Even if he was being absolutely sweet and genuine, Bebe's outfit of a white polka-dot blouse and flats didn't exactly scream 'outdoor-activities.' She put her purse inside of the truck, dreading the sight of it smeared in mud or fish guts or God knows what else she might encounter.

"I know it's not exactly the most romantic date I could've taken you on, but I thought you might like it."

Bebe Stevens, who lived in Victoria's Secret and mentally shut down at the sight of the smallest insect, enjoying fishing? That was laughable. Still, she rolled up the sleeves of her little pink cardigan and put her long mane into a ponytail.

"You're going to have to teach me. I've never been fishing before."

Kenny brought over a silver fishing pole and put the handle in her grasp. "Okay. The hook's already on it so you don't have to worry about that. What you're going to do is lift up this thing," he gestured to a silver piece of machinery on the reel, "it's called the bail. Put your finger on the line to stop it from moving. Then you pull it back," he stepped behind Bebe and moved her hands back, "and then when you cast it forward you lift your finger off and then push the bail back down until it clicks into place."

To demonstrate, he helped Bebe cast the line, murmuring directions in her ear. The hook made a perfect arc over the water and landed in the center of the lake with a satisfying _plop._ Bebe turned to look at him with an excited smile.

"I did it!"

"You're a natural."

Their faces were so close Bebe could taste his breath. She hastily turned back around to watch the nearly invisible, slightly-shining fishing line moving with the breeze.

"How long does it take to catch something?"

Kenny finally moved from behind Bebe, leaving a cold patch on her back in his absence. Even though it was already March, there was still a nip in the air and low-lying clouds blocked the sun. She was surprised the lake was even melted considering the winter frost was just beginning to inch back up the mountains.

"You might not catch anything, but it helps to have live bait."

He took the fishing pole from her gently and reeled in the line at expert lightning speed. Bebe watched as he dipped his hand into the bait bucket, removing a wriggling minnow, and strung the hook through it. When he let go, the fish was still flopping, jiggling the line.

"All right, now cast."

Bebe lifted the silver bail, pinching the line to the rod. With one confident move, she threw it back and then forward, removing her finger at just the right moment for the fish to go soaring and land in the water. When she turned to Kenny with a wide smile, he looked impressed.

They spent the afternoon like this. Kenny would cast, Bebe would try to cast farther and mess up and 'require' Kenny's help at adjusting her grip. After they'd spent the better part of two hours reeling in nothing but wet blobs of algae and the occasional piece of trash, Kenny began packing up the equipment. Just as Bebe finished helping him load in the last of the tackle boxes, he produced a large blanket from the backseat of his Chevy and laid it out on the grassy part of the lakeshore.

When Bebe cocked a curious eyebrow at him, he merely smiled as he heaved a picnic basket from the bed of his truck and dropped it in the middle of the blanket.

"You didn't," Bebe said, genuinely surprised and flattered that he had gone through the trouble of preparing a picnic.

He shrugged. "It's just sandwiches and a bottle of six-dollar wine."

She failed to think of a better way to wrap up a date.

They finished the sandwiches and wine and were laying on the blanket, watching the wind cast ripples on the surface of the lake. Bebe shivered at the cold rush of air moving in.

"Are you cold?"

She crossed her arms. "Just a little."

He immediately hopped up and ran to his truck, bringing back a heavy denim jacket with Sherpa lining. Before Bebe could open her mouth, he'd draped it over her shoulders and secured it by placing his arm around her.

If any other boy smelled like cigarettes poorly masked with cologne, Bebe would've detested it, but somehow it both suited Kenny and comforted her. She realized the warmth that was spreading through her body wasn't just from the jacket.

 _Oh._ The realization her suddenly like an oncoming train. She liked him. She _really_ liked him. Sure, she thought he was hot and sometimes he did cute things and he made her that ICEE at work once, but _genuinely_ having feelings for him was…real. She'd genuinely had feelings for plenty of guys that had fucked her over more than once. Bebe shifted and focused on a stray ladybug struggling to get across the picnic blanket.

"You all right?" Kenny asked.

Bebe shook her head, giving him a reassuring smile. "Yeah."

And just like that, they were about to kiss. His arm was around her. Their faces were close. Bebe had her best lip-gloss on. They were inches apart, centimeters apart, millimeters apart – and a drop of water landed on the tip of her nose.

"Is it…raining?" She asked, looking up at the sky.

A torrential downpour began. Bebe and Kenny were shocked into stillness.

 _'My makeup!'_ her mind screamed. _'I can't let him see me with my makeup running!'_ Without thinking twice, she shoved away from Kenny, scrambling to pack up their picnic. Kenny hopped up seconds afterwards, throwing a tarp over his fishing equipment in the bed of his truck. Rivulets of water ran into their eyes. Their clothes were soaked through in a minute. What had been shaping up to be the perfect date was now looking like a traumatic event Bebe would have to see a therapist to get over.

Kenny started laughing. His arms were overflowing with sandwich wrappers as he went back and forth from his truck to the lakeshore. Bebe tried to bite her lips but couldn't help herself. He looked like a miserable wet blond puppy in the rain.

Once they'd finished packing up everything, they climbed into the front seat of his truck, still giggling and out of breath. They shared a smug look, like they had just created a secret together, and Kenny put his key into the ignition, starting the drive back to town.

He shook his head like a dog, spraying rainwater across the dashboard. Bebe tried to wring out her curls to no avail. When she looked in Kenny's rearview mirror, she thanked God for makeup setting spray. Her entire face had stayed intact, including her waterproof mascara. She caught Kenny looking at her blouse and she glanced down, hoping she hadn't accidentally spilled mustard on her shirt.

The thin fabric had turned to nothingness in the rain. It was stuck to her like glue – exposing _everything,_ including her hot pink bra and her stomach rolls bulging out over the waistband of her pants. Pink in her cheeks, she peeled off her cardigan and wore it backwards, trying to hide her body. She kept trying to remind herself of what Kenny had told her outside of the Bijou.

' _You don't even have a muffin top at all, you've got the perfect body – and good God, Bebe, your tits aren't lopsided in the least.'_

Even if they weren't, Bebe still wanted to keep them somewhat of a secret, even if he _had_ already seen her nudes. He cleared his throat awkwardly and they drove back to Bebe's house in the rain, watching the sheets of water pour from the sky and run downhill like rivers.

He pulled to a slow stop in front of the Stevens' residence. The lights in the living room were on, meaning that Bebe's mother was probably watching her reality TV with a glass of wine in hand, waiting to interrogate her daughter about every detail of her date.

"I had fun," he said.

"Me too," Bebe replied.

She drummed her hands on her thighs, too nervous to look him in the eye. Suddenly, she leapt forward, planting her wet, glossed lips to his cheek and instantly getting out of the car, Kate Spade crossbody in tow. Before she could make it to her front door, Kenny rolled down his window and called after her.

"Call me!"

Bebe went inside of her house, closing the door with a satisfying _click._ She thought there was nothing she would like to do more then spend the entire night on the phone with Kenny McCormick.

* * *

It was soon tech week for _Little Shop of Horrors._ Kyle, being the best trumpet player at South Park High, had been asked by his band director to play for the musical. Half of his decision to say yes was because his secret girlfriend was stage managing and they got to ride back and forth from rehearsals together, grabbing late night dinners, without attracting any negative suspicion from Stan.

They'd just wrapped up day two of tech week. The band was finally feeling comfortable with the music, the actors had nailed their costume changes and song cues, and the crew had their footing when it came to lights, sound, and changing sets. _Little Shop_ was shaping up to be a huge success.

Kyle and Wendy were walking toward Kyle's car.

"What're we getting tonight? Denny's?" Wendy asked, adjusting her grip on her backpack strap while simultaneously trying to text her nagging mother.

He shrugged. "It's up to you. I kind of want Wendy's."

She looked at him disapprovingly, trying to hide her smile. "Ha, ha."

Suddenly, he leaned in and stole a kiss. Wendy was taken by pleasant surprise. They hadn't been intimate together since the whole fiasco of Stan almost catching them in the act. Then, she realized where they were.

"We're at school!" She hissed, ducking between two cars in the parking lot and tugging Kyle along by his sleeve. "Are you out of your mind?"

"It's fine," he reassured her. "No one saw us. Everyone's already gone home, it's late."

Her nervous brown eyes scanned the perimeter of the dark parking lot, the only illumination coming from a single flickering street light. It was silent all around. The only sound came from a lonely car driving by on the road outside of the high school. She sighed and turned to look at Kyle.

"You're right. I'm just paranoid, sorry."

He offered her a smile. "I know. It's all right. The whole going-behind-Stan's-back-thing has made me pretty jumpy, too."

"God, I wish we could just go on a date like a normal couple. You know Bebe went out and had some great date with Kenny the other day? She talks about it nonstop. Like, it's annoying, but at the same time I'm kind of jealous."

"Let's go on a date then," Kyle said simply.

Wendy raised her eyebrows. "Where? We can't exactly be seen holding hands in public."

"Then we'll do it somewhere private. Somewhere other than our bedrooms."

"I'd love to do that, but…I don't know. What's our alibi going to be? Nationals are next weekend. We can't use the excuse of working on our presentation for much longer."

Kyle thought for a moment, his green eyes pensive. "We'll think of something. There'll be another project or book report or something we'll have to work on together."

She sighed and nervously watched the auditorium doors that went out to the parking lot, making sure no one would make a sudden entrance and catch them whispering in the dark between two parked cars.

"Okay. Let's do it. A real date."

He smiled and grabbed her hand, giving it a squeeze. "I'll plan something special, okay?"

Wendy didn't have any doubt that he would have something utterly romantic hidden up his sleeve.

* * *

Bebe was regretting her decision to become costume manager more than ever. She was no wiz with a sewing machine and now she was expected to sew three new sequined outfits for Crystal, Ronette, and Chiffon before dress rehearsal tomorrow after school. According to Mr. Gueermo, the last set she'd spent hours sewing sparkly fringe on didn't have enough 'pizazz.'

Muttering bitterly under her breath as she finished the hem on the last dress, she grabbed her things, throwing on her jacket and backpack and making a beeline for the door. As she looked up from checking her phone, she jumped at the sight of Lola standing smugly before her, still caked in her Audrey makeup.

"Well, if it isn't Bebe."

She rolled her eyes. "What do you want, Lola?"

"Just wanted to share something juicy with you. Thought you might be interested."

Bebe tried to shove past. "In your petty gossip? I doubt it."

"It's about your best gal pal, Wendy. Trust me, you'll want to see this."

See? Her interest was piqued. She figured Lola had scrounged the bottom of the trash heap for some kind of lowly gossip that wouldn't even be relevant, but a _picture_ would mean something entirely different. Bebe waited as Lola pulled up something on her phone and turned it around to show her.

The color drained from Bebe's face. It was a blurry photo, but there was no mistaking the subject – Wendy and Kyle kissing in the parking lot. There was no way they were anyone else and no way they weren't locking lips in public. How had Lola gotten a picture of them?

"I had a feeling that there was something going on between them so I started following them around. Just tonight when they were going home Kyle made the mistake of confirming my hunch. Wendy is cheating on Stan with his best friend."

Bebe didn't know what to say. She didn't want to worsen the situation, but how could it get any better?

"I'm going to make a bargain with you. In exchange for me not sending this picture to the entire school, thus exposing their frankly disgusting love affair – like honestly, who goes from _Stan Marsh_ to Kyle? – you're going to stop seeing Kenny."

"Excuse me?"

"You're going to stop whatever little relationship you're starting with him. Everyone already knows you both went on a date together, against his better judgement. I'm sure he's been charmed by your…" her eyes lowered to Bebe's cleavage and then she gave a poisonous smile, "Talents. But he and I have been an item since freshman year, and you are not about to come in here with your trashy Victoria's Secret yoga pants and sequined pink Uggs and ruin that for me, okay? So, either you end all contact with him _or_ I show this picture to Stan and blow up your entire social circle, revealing that your best friend is a cheating, dirty slut."

Bebe's mouth was stuck open. She had been backed into a corner. Usually there was enough fight in her that she would at least have had some kind of snappy, bitchy comeback, but nothing came to her lips.

"Oh, and I'll also tell the entire school that you got gonorrhea from Clyde at that party."

" _What?_ "

She shrugged and smiled. "I know everything, Bebe. Everyone at South Park High already knows about your little sexcapades, but they know nothing about you getting the clap. I could change that in about two minutes if I had to."

The blonde shook her head, digging her hot pink nails into her palms to keep herself from crying.

"Fuck you, Lola."

She waved goodbye and went outside to her expensive sports car, leaving Bebe in the hallway.

* * *

Finals are over! I did surprisingly well this semester. Things are starting to get overly dramatic because the story is almost over. Less than ten chapters to go! Review, follow, favorite, all of that because the more people show me that they're interested in this fic, the more motivated I am to update it. Thanks! See you next time.


	18. Chapter 18

**Chapter Eighteen**

 _Little Shop of Horrors_ was the talk of South Park High School for one entire week. The only topic of conversation that had lasted longer was when Stan and Wendy had broken up sophomore year 'for good' and Stan had supposedly been seen hitting on a North Park cheerleader the following day. Every student praised the set, the costumes – which made Bebe glow with smug pride – and most of all, Kenny's singing voice, which had been compared to that of both Harry Styles and Shawn Mendes, the biggest heartthrobs of every teenage girl in Park County.

After things had calmed down and returned to normal, Bebe was expected back at the Bijou Cinema for her part time job. It had been easy to avoid Kenny during performance week. She was usually found backstage with needle and thread in hand, ready to patch up any disasters, and Kenny was so busy running from cue to cue that they didn't even have time to make eye contact with each other. She'd gone as far as to skip out on the cast party. Everyone knew Bebe _loved_ parties. She had an inkling that Kenny knew something was up, but she wasn't about to let him know the extent of Lola's threats and meddling.

At the very least, Bebe had gotten used to the regular grind of working at the movie theater. She had grown accustomed to the stench of popcorn butter residing in her hair, the permanent blue stain on her tongue from enjoying ICEEs during her shifts, and even Kenny's constant flirting and 'accidental' touching seemed as normal as breathing. That day, however, when he shuffled behind her to get into the supply closet, pressing his groin against her butt in a way that was entirely inappropriate for the workplace, she snapped.

"Can you cut that out?" She hissed, trying not to cause a scene in front of the nervous Tweek, who was attempting to make a choice between Tuesday's discount nachos or a hot dog.

He gave her a look like she'd just grown an extra boob. "Cut what out?"

She rolled her eyes and rapped her acrylic fingernails against the register keys. "Never mind."

His blonde eyebrows knitted together before he turned and disappeared into the closet. Bebe settled her eyes on the twitchy boy in front of her, muttering to himself about junk food. Watching him struggle to make a basic decision was making her blood boil.

"What are you _getting,_ Tweek?" Bebe snapped.

He jumped, almost losing his grasp on his wallet, his panicked eyes widening to the size of saucers. "I don't know!"

A pang of pity went through her. "God, I'm sorry, Tweek. I'm stressed. Get the nachos, those hot dogs have been sitting in that water for like, two weeks."

He looked disgusted and walked into the theater, without nasty food in hand.

"There goes your employee of the month sticker," Kenny joked – badly – coming out of the closet with a box of soda cups.

Bebe didn't respond. She could feel Kenny's eyes boring into her skin and it was doing nothing to quell the anger that was slowly building from a combination of stressful factors in her life. As if being cheer captain to the worst team in Colorado wasn't enough, she had to deal with being the secret keeper to her best friend's affair _,_ her parents being the biggest pair of assholes on the planet, and now Lola was making it her job to personally ruin all chances of Bebe's happiness. To top it all off, junior prom was coming up and her acne wasn't doing her any favors. The worst part was that she wasn't even being dramatic like she usually was. All of these awful things were genuinely happening to her all at once.

"Bebe?" He asked, putting on a sugary voice.

She didn't look at him.

"Did I do something wrong?"

She huffed loudly through her nose.

"Are you going to talk to me or am I just going to keep looking like a dumbass?"

Bebe's lack of response answered Kenny's question. He rolled his eyes and began refilling the soda cups while Bebe turned around to make another round of popcorn that was likely to go stale before their shift was over in the next thirty minutes.

"I guess I was wrong about us having a good time on our date. If you want to quit seeing me, just say the word."

The blonde closed her eyes and took a strangled deep breath. "It's not that."

Kenny grinned. "She speaks."

Bebe turned to face him. "Look, what's going on is like, super fucking complicated and I don't want to get into things or involve you in it, okay?"

"Obviously I'm already involved or you wouldn't be acting like such a frigid bitch." _Ouch._ She couldn't say she didn't deserve that one.

She clenched her fist. "Okay. Look. I'll tell the truth. It does involve you. But more importantly, it involves my best friend in the entire world who is about ninety five percent of why I wake up in the morning and go to school every day. So, no offense, but her happiness is much more important than yours or mine, and I'm going to leave it at that."

For a moment, things were quiet, and Bebe turned on the popcorn machine, watching the kernels burst open and fly into the glass case. Kenny turned around and opened his mouth. Bebe prepared herself for the worst.

"But if it involves me, don't I have a right to know?"

Bebe slammed the lid to the popcorn machine closed. "Fine. Your little girlfriend is fucking _blackmailing_ me. As if I hadn't had enough of being blackmailed in my lifetime."

Kenny winced at the memory of uploading Bebe's nudes to the internet. "My girlfriend?"

"Lola. You know, perfect hair, great ass, perky tits, the whole airheaded package."

"Lola's _not_ my girlfriend."

Bebe laughed. "Really? Cause she certainly seems to think she is."

Kenny ran a tired hand over his face. "For fuck's sake. We had sex one time."

She raised her eyebrows and gave him an incredulous look.

"Okay, fine. It was a few times in freshman year, but we never dated and I never gave her the impression that we were dating or ever will date."

"Well, Lola is now in possession of a very incriminating photo of Wendy and is now threatening to release not only that picture, but a very private piece of information about myself that I would _love_ to keep a secret, unless I stop seeing you and promise to never go on another date with you again."

He threw his head back and groaned. "Fuck. Why is she such a manipulative bitch?"

"I don't know. You tell me, you're the one that was fuckbuddies with her or whatever."

Kenny grabbed both of Bebe's arms and shook them. "We weren't fuckbuddies. I never liked her, I was just using her for sex." The earnest look in his eye was so intense that Bebe took a step away from him.

"Oh, like how you're planning on using me?"

His face went flat and dead. "…What?"

"Nothing. Just something Lola told me. About how you only wanted to go on a date with me because I'm cheap, and easy, and a piece of trash and whatever – and I was in the Archive, which automatically brands me a slut for guys to take advantage of for the rest of my miserable life."

Bebe had never really seen Kenny angry before. Sure, he'd been pissed, peeved, maybe even a little ticked off, but never _angry._ She would've gone as far as to describe his expression as furious. She braced herself for the stream of rapid fire words that came out of his mouth.

"What the fuck? Are you on your _period_ or something? Everything that you're saying makes no sense! I already told you that I really fucking like you even though you're constantly saying crazy shit like this and I even went as far as to delete The Archive for you, which has caused my truck to be egged three times already!"

Bebe's mouth was stuck open. "Hold up. Excuse me. Did you just say what I think you just said?"

"What? That you say crazy shit? That shouldn't be news to you."

She held up her index finger to stop him from speaking. "Did you just insinuate that I was on my period because I got upset?"

"Yes," Kenny caved, flopping his exhausted arms. "Yes, I did. Because there is no other way to rationalize how you're acting right now."

"Maybe I'm just pissed because of shit that you've done!" She screamed.

"Stop yelling at me!" He screamed back.

Bebe didn't know how to respond so she took Kenny in up and down. "Ugh!"

"I'm done," he said flatly. "Whatever. Believe Lola if that's what you want to do. I'm going home."

With that, he entered the break room, grabbed his jacket off the rack, and was out of the movie theater before Bebe had time to fully comprehend what had just happened. Craig entered after him, looking over his shoulder at the path that Kenny had taken with vague disinterest.

"I would ask what's wrong with him but I don't really care."

Bebe gave Craig a poisonous look before punching out on the clock and grabbing her purse and coat from the break room.

Once she'd reached the parking lot, she slammed the door to her red Beetle, fuming in the passenger seat. She took her phone out of her Kate Spade crossbody, looking at it with disgust after she realized it was the purse she had taken with her on her date to the lake with Kenny.

 _'come over and bring ice cream PLEASE,'_ she texted Wendy.

Bebe put her keys in the ignition and started her car, pulling out of the lot and down the street to her house. By the time she'd made it home, Wendy was getting out of her dad's Prius with a pint of Ben & Jerry's Cherry Garcia ice cream tucked under the arm of her puffy purple coat. Bebe's eyes welled with tears of relief as soon as she saw her best friend.

"God, I'm so happy to see you," she gushed as she got out of her car.

Wendy gave her a sympathetic smile. "What happened?"

The pint was finished in less than an hour. Both girls, full up to their eyebrows with ice cream, vegetated on Bebe's bed, staring at the wall.

"I can't believe he asked you if you were on your period," Wendy sighed. "That's literally one of the worst things a guy can do."

Bebe slapped the back of her spoon into the melted remnants of her favorite treat. "I asked him if he insinuated it, too. I thought you would be proud of me for using a big word."

"Good job," her best friend said, patting Bebe on the head.

The blonde threw her hands up in the air. "Why does shit like this always happen to me?"

"Bad things happen to good people, Bebe. It's the way of the world."

"I feel like karma should've worked it's magic by now. The horrible thing I did in a past life must've been made up twenty times over with how much I've had to go through this year."

Wendy sucked down the last of a Dr. Pepper – extremely out of character for her, since she was usually pretty health conscious. "You know what? You're right. Like, how much has happened already? At the beginning of junior year, you got caught cheating on Clyde with Token and then you guys broke up. That happened in the first month of school."

"I don't want to relive that."

"And then," Wendy continued, making a list in her mind, "you failed that really big AP Chem test and the teacher yelled at you in front of the entire class and you cussed her out and got ISS for two days. That was pretty bad."

Bebe slapped her best friend on the arm. "Cut it out. This isn't funny." Despite saying so, a smile was beginning to play at her lips.

"After that, you sent that nude to Kenny and started that whole Archive nightmare. And then you lost your virginity to _Clyde Donovan,_ which in itself must've been enough trauma to make up for whatever horrible misdeed you'd done in the past."

"Shut up!" Bebe squealed, trying to hit Wendy with a furry pink pillow.

She dodged it. "And then you got gonorrhea. Just the cherry on top, right?"

"Wendy!"

"Then your parents force you to start working at the Bijou, easily the nastiest place in town. Next, you got saddled with costuming an entire musical by yourself. Now you've gotten into an awful fight with the only guy you've ever had real feelings for, and quite possibly ruined all of your chances of happiness with said cute boy."

Bebe laughed, glad that she was still able to smile despite everything that had happened to her.

"God, it sounds so shitty when you put it like that."

Wendy smiled and squeezed Bebe's hand. "It does, doesn't it?"

The blonde threw herself backwards into her mountain of pillows and gave a guttural groan. "Why doesn't anything bad happen to you?"

"Trust me, plenty of bad stuff happens to me. I just don't tell you every detail of my life."

"Which is extremely unfair, because you know everything about me," Bebe chided.

"Like, Stan and I are still in this really weird place where we're dating but we haven't hung out in about three weeks and when we see each other in the hallway we're forced to smile at each other like a miserable divorced couple having to be civil in front of their kids."

"That's a really detailed comparison."

"It's true," Wendy sighed. "And now I'm about to go on this trip with Kyle tomorrow and things between me and him are still awkward."

"Damn," Bebe chuckled, fiddling with her belly button, "Two relationships and you can't even make _one_ work?"

"I know! It's pathetic."

Wendy eyed an open bag of barbeque potato chips on Bebe's desk and dug in despite knowing that junior prom was coming up and she was going to be struggling to fit into her normal size six if she kept stress eating like a pig.

"The worst part is that I really want to have sex with Kyle but I don't think he wants to have sex with me."

Bebe guffawed. "That's a fucking joke if I ever heard one."

"What do you mean?"

She rolled on her side to make dead serious eye contact with her best friend. "Wendy, you're one of the hottest girls at South Park High _and_ you've got a brain. You're a badass chick who doesn't take shit from anyone. Kyle would have to be crazy to not want to have sex with you."

"But…"

"Look, he's probably just scared. Losing your virginity to someone can be a really weird and uncomfortable thing, and I'm speaking from experience."

Wendy put down the bag of chips and pulled her knees to her chest. "I know that. But I want him to trust me. I'm not going to laugh at him or judge him just because he's a virgin and I'm not."

Bebe shrugged. "So tell him that. It's most likely exactly what he needs to hear from you. And you should lay it on really thick and tell him that he's got a massive dick or something like that, because I can sense that he has self confidence issues."

It was Wendy's turn to chuck a pillow at Bebe. "Shut up," she grinned. "You're so stupid."

"Ah, but that's why you love me!"

Wendy loved Bebe for a lot more than her stupid sense of humor. "I'm so lucky to have a best friend like you."

"Music to my ears," Bebe said. "I've been waiting to hear you say that since the first grade."

* * *

It was really hard for Wendy to have a heart to heart with Kyle when their science club sponsor was constantly with them from the plane ride to LA to checking them each into their respective – separate – hotel rooms. She kept trying to make guilty eye contact with him but he failed to indulge her and chose to spend most of the trip reading _Anna Karenina._ She couldn't even be really mad at him because it was one of her favorite books and he was only reading it because she'd recommended it to him.

"I've got a meeting," their sponsor said once she had handed them both their different room keys. "All the club sponsors and teachers have to go to the conference room upstairs for a few hours and listen to a lecture and learn all the rules. I want you both to go to your rooms and relax. Seriously. I can tell how stressed you've been and I don't want that to affect your presentation." She put her hands on their shoulders and leaned in close. "You've got this in the bag, you two. You're the smartest, brightest, most intelligent students I've ever had the pleasure of working with, and I know you won't let me down."

At the end of her speech, their sponsor sat up, checking her watch. "It's already almost six thirty. I won't be done until really late, but I trust you to both get into bed on time without me having to check on you. Sound good?"

Kyle and Wendy nodded.

"I'm serious. Be in bed by eleven or I'll kill both of you."

With that, she turned on her heel, merging with the small line of middle-aged educators making their way toward the elevator.

"That was intense," Kyle said, tucking his book into his bag and looking at the number on his key. "I'm going to get ready for bed and watch some TV." He began walking down the hallway toward his hotel room.

"Yeah," Wendy replied, following him with her purple Samsonite suitcase in tow. "I can't remember the last time I just sat and watched TV. I'm too busy."

He gave her a sympathetic look with his bright green eyes. They had reached their rooms, directly across the hall from each other. They both stood awkwardly, too anxious to make eye contact again. Bebe's words rang in Wendy's memory and she found herself speaking without meaning to.

"I'm not going to make fun of you or anything like that just because you're a virgin and I'm not," she blurted.

Kyle blinked like a deer in headlights.

"That was random. But I've been thinking a lot about how I've been really forceful with trying to get you to have sex with me, and you've been apprehensive – rightly so – and I just wanted to let you know that I don't think any less of you because you've never had sex. Actually, I think it's kind of admirable."

He tried to speak but Wendy kept chugging along.

"Um, I also wanted to say that you're one of the smartest people I've ever met and I really like that you challenge me to learn more and I love you."

The end of her spiel took him by surprise. He opened and closed his mouth several times before forming some kind of coherent response. "Wow."

Wendy slapped her own forehead. "I sound insane. Sorry. I'm going to bed. Good night."

She turned around and tried to put her key card in the door handle, but Kyle grabbed her suddenly by the wrist.

When she turned to face him, his cheeks were subtly pink. "I love you, too."

They stood like that for a long time, just staring at each other with Kyle's hand around her sleeve, until a fellow presenter from another school came out of their room with an ice bucket and gave them a quizzical look. Kyle let go and Wendy shook out the creases in her shirt sleeve.

"Do you want to come in?" He asked.

Wendy nodded.

The room was surprisingly nice. There was one king sized bed pushed against the wall, covered in a fluffy white duvet, and sheer mauve curtains cast a pink glow over the entire room. A big flat screen TV faced the bed over a streamlined modern dresser. The air smelled like brown sugar.

She left her suitcase in the entryway and kicked off her shiny yellow flats, following Kyle until they were both standing in front of the dresser, at a complete loss.

"I wish I could take you to prom," Kyle confessed, breaking the silence.

Wendy frowned. "I know. Don't feel too bad, though. Honestly, prom is overrated. It's just getting dressed up and taking pictures and stressing about looking nice for one night of dancing with a bunch of kids you don't even like anyway, and then being forced to pretend like you had a really good time to convince yourself that you didn't waste all of that money on nothing."

"Okay, I'm really glad you feel the same way, because I didn't want to say that out loud and sound like a cynical asshole."

"Did I sound like a cynical asshole just then? I'm really trying to work on that."

Kyle smiled and Wendy's heart melted. "If you sound like a cynical asshole, at least you're _my_ cynical asshole."

"I'm touched."

"It came from the heart."

Wendy kissed him quickly. There was a spark of inspiration in his eyes.

"I have an idea."

Her curiosity piqued, Wendy watched Kyle turn out the contents of his messenger bag onto the dresser and sort through the mess until he located his phone. Seizing it victoriously, he began tapping excitedly before pressing his finger to the screen in one dramatic movement. Music began to play.

"Ah, you went for Bach this time." She smiled, pleased.

He shrugged. "I don't have a whole lot of slow dance worthy music on my phone. But I figured we could have our own little prom by ourselves in here, just us."

"And Bach," Wendy added, coming closer to him.

He nodded, putting his hands on her waist. "And Bach."

She linked her arms around his neck and they swayed to the music together.

It didn't take long for Kyle to kiss her. Maybe it was the Bach, but Wendy felt like she'd never been kissed so tenderly and honestly in her life. She kissed him back, turning her head and parting their lips. She was so lightheaded she hadn't even noticed they had stopped dancing until she pulled away and the room started spinning.

"Wow." Now it was Wendy's turned to be shocked.

They sat down on the bed together and Kyle thought for a moment before speaking. "It's not that I didn't want to have sex with you," he began. Wendy felt a rush of relief. "It's just a weird situation. Even without Stan in the scenario, I couldn't wrap my head around being with a girl as thoughtful and smart and genuine and as gorgeous as you."

"Kyle."

"I felt like I didn't deserve you. And so when you tried to…have sex with me, I was just nervous that I would be really bad at it or something stupid like that and confirm the fact that the nerdy band geek isn't supposed to get the perfect girl and we would stop seeing each other and I would have to go back to living how I was before – which was sad and lonely, and I can't imagine living a life where you aren't in it the way you are now."

Wendy was honestly surprised she hadn't started crying. Kyle looked up from his hands and they stared at each other.

"Does that make sense?"

She nodded. "Perfect sense." She kissed him. "And just to be fair, I never thought that the too-smart, bitchy, self-obsessed girl could get the perfect guy, either."

They both smiled.

"I'm really nervous about this presentation tomorrow," he confessed, shaking his head. "There's so much riding on it."

Wendy frowned. "I know. I keep going over it in my head because I'm so scared I'll forget what I'm supposed to say."

"I keep waiting for it to just be over so I can stop worrying about it."

Feeling mischievous, Wendy hid a coy smile, a plan hatching in her head. "I think I know what I can do to help."

Kyle looked at her, wondering what she was going to suggest.

"Just close your eyes."

Wendy slid carefully to the floor and wiggled between Kyle's knees, running her hands up the length of his thighs. He opened his eyes and looked down at her, surprised.

"Don't worry. We don't have to go any farther than this if you don't want to."

Kyle didn't say anything else and closed his eyes. Wendy unbuttoned his pants and unzipped his fly, snaking her hand into his boxers. He was glad he was nervous because he probably would've came the instant Wendy touched him if he hadn't been. She pulled on his belt loops, forcing him to stand up so she could pull down his pants.

The moment Wendy's mouth touched him, Kyle was surprised he was able to still stand. His knees felt like they'd been hit with rubber bullets. His eyes rolled back in his head behind his lids. He grabbed either side of his shirt in his fists, grabbing it tight. Wendy did a little trick with her tongue that made him shudder.

Just like that, he came, and it was over. Wendy made a sour face and looked like she wanted to spit but couldn't find anywhere convenient to do it so she painfully swallowed. Kyle took a few moments to catch his breath.

"Um, wow. Okay. That happened."

Wendy laughed. "Feel better?"

"That's one way of putting it."

And there they were, Kyle standing with his pants and underwear around his ankles while Wendy sat on the floor, face to face with his dick. She finally looked up from staring at the pattern on the carpet and blinked.

"It's still…"

He nodded. "Yeah."

"Do you want to?"

They made nervous eye contact.

"Um. Yeah, I do."

Wendy stood up off the ground and peeled her shirt off as if on command. Kyle kicked off his shoes and removed his pants, feeling self-conscious as he watched Wendy remove her skinny jeans to reveal a flawlessly toned and well taken care of body. He didn't exactly have a set of washboard abs, but the way Wendy watched him take off his sweater certainly made him feel like he did.

When they kissed again, they were naked, and Kyle's body was blushing all over. Somehow, they were laying on the bed together, and somehow, he was on top of her, and somehow, he was expected to know how to have sex with a girl he'd been in love with for what felt like his entire life.

He felt like he was forgetting something.

Wendy pulled back suddenly and bustled to her bag in the entryway. Kyle smiled, realizing that her bare butt was just as cute as her butt in any pair of pants. When she turned around, she was holding a little gold foil packet in her fingers. He was glad that she carried condoms with her in her bag because he'd never found the need to before.

He still felt like he was forgetting something else. What had Kenny told him?

A lightbulb went off over his head as Wendy wiggled back up onto the mattress and planted a kiss on his jaw. _Duh._ How could he forget foreplay? Sure, he'd had his share of it, but Wendy certainly hadn't.

As she went to tear into the foil, Kyle reached forward and stopped her.

"We have to use a condom, I'm not on the pill – " she began.

"I know. We're going to use one. But just wait a second."

Wendy set the condom down on the bedside table and turned back to watch Kyle snaking down the mattress and slipping between her legs. She was nervous and hyperaware of her own vagina as Kyle got dangerously close to it.

Her world was shattered in an instant as her legs curled up and her back arched at the sudden contact with Kyle's mouth.

A tongue while kissing was nice. It was better than nice. A tongue on her neck during a hickey was ticklish and exciting. She had never gotten the male obsession with nipples, but a tongue felt pretty good on them, too. She had no idea that an entire realm of pleasure had been a secret to her before. How had she never known about _this?_ All of her insecurity about her vagina was gone in an instant. Her brain wasn't even functioning anymore. Kyle was going down on her, and she'd never felt that good in her _entire_ life.

He pulled a fast one on her and slipped one of his fingers inside, bringing what she thought was the best feeling in the world to a new level. She'd never been one to moan during sex before but that had definitely changed in the last forty seconds.

Another finger went in and Wendy was grabbing at the sheets on the bed. Kyle was feeling pretty smug but he wasn't about to show it. He curled his fingers forward to hit a sensitive spot and Wendy grit her teeth, throwing her head back into the pillow as she clamped down on him.

Kyle wasn't one hundred percent sure, but he thought that Wendy had just came. Thanks to _him._ He was feeling good about himself.

He'd gotten the foreplay part done. That meant that he was really going to have to do it – have sex for the first time. Wendy recovered quickly and reached for the condom, opening up the package and pulling it out. She slid it on for him and he shifted so he was on top of her, so nervous he was surprised he wasn't shaking.

Wendy leaned forward to kiss him, wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling him close. All of his pent-up anxiety seemed to melt away. He didn't even know why he'd been feeling nervous in the first place. He was losing his virginity to the perfect girl.

He rolled his hips forward. It took him a second, but he got there, and suddenly he felt like much more of a man.

Kyle Broflovski was no longer a virgin.

Wendy was in utter paradise. She ran her fingernails down his back, through his hair, up and down his arms. He was so much gentler than she was used to. He rocked against her in that hotel bed for what felt like forever, but in reality, was more like fifteen minutes.

He came again. Wendy dug her fingernails into the small of his back, knowing that she would leave marks, but not caring in the least. For a moment, they stayed like that, each of them breathing the same hot air and their sweat mingling. Kyle kissed her and slid away, sitting on the edge of the bed to take off the condom and take it to the bathroom to flush.

She laid in the bed and stared at the ceiling, unable to wipe her blissful smile off of her face. Kyle came back and put on his underwear, climbing back up onto the bed to lay with her. She turned to face him and hugged him close, burying her face in the spot beneath his chin.

"It happened," she mumbled, still grinning like an idiot.

He laughed. "It did."

"Was it everything you hoped it would be?"

He kissed the top of her damp head, running a hand over her messed up hair. "Everything and more."

Kyle was glad that Wendy was the prepared type, because they fell asleep just like that and awoke to her alarm going off in her bag in the morning. Sometime in the night she'd gotten up and put on Kyle's sweater and he watched with bleary eyes as she scrambled out of bed to turn off the alarm.

She turned to face him, looking absolutely radiant. "We've got to get ready. It's nationals day."

* * *

Perhaps it was the fact that they had bonded in a way that the other contestants hadn't the night before. Maybe it was because they truly were child prodigies and geniuses of their age. It could have been that the other competitors heard two teenagers having sex and stayed up late to giggle and gossip about it. Whatever it was, Kyle and Wendy went into shock when their names were called during the awards ceremony.

"Kyle Broflovski and Wendy Testaburger of South Park High School, Park County, Colorado. First place."

Their sponsor shook them both violently. "That's you! Get up there and get your God damn medals!"

The audience cheered as they numbly stood up from their chairs and made their way up to the stage to accept their prizes. Camera flashes went off. Hands were shaken. Wendy and Kyle were asked to look at another camera and smile. Plaques were pressed into their clammy hands. The other competitors were either crying or steaming silently in their chairs. Wendy watched as a recruiter from Harvard University nodded and smiled. One of the professors on the stage grabbed Kyle's hand and shook it violently. He was wearing MIT's emblem on his blazer.

Sometime during all the madness, Wendy had seized Kyle's hand. She wouldn't have let go of it for the entire world.

* * *

IT HAPPENED. They finally did the deed. You Kyle and Wendy shippers had to wait eighteen chapters, some sixty thousand words, some one hundred and twenty pages for them to have awkward teenager sex in a hotel room. But at least it happened. Finally.


	19. Chapter 19

**Chapter Nineteen**

Buffalo Wild Wings had become the restaurant of choice when the boys finally decided to leave the dark recesses of Stan's basement and venture out into the world. On the rare occasion that they _did_ get up to grudgingly take showers and get dressed, they found themselves at a booth, watching some nondescript sports game on one of the many TVs, eating wings and talking about school and girls interchangeably.

"I keep forgetting that prom is coming up," Stan said, squeezing a boneless wing between his fingers and shoving it into his mouth. "Wendy is different than most girls but she's still obsessed with getting a limo and going out to eat and doing all of that shit."

Kenny had been oddly quiet for the duration of their outing. "Yeah."

"Who're you taking, Kenny?" Kyle asked, trying to make conversation with him. He'd been looking pretty miserable recently, resembling a small child who'd just seen their beloved puppy get hit by a car in the street.

He shrugged. "I was going to take Bebe, but now I don't know. I guess I could ask Lola."

"What happened with you and Bebe?" Stan asked. He had a smear of barbeque wing sauce above his lip. "I thought you guys were going to like, start dating or something."

"No," Kenny rolled his blue eyes and took a slow sip of his soda. "I mean, we went out on one date, but there's just too much drama always going on around her."

Kyle motioned for Stan to wipe the sauce off of his face. He grabbed a napkin and brought it to his mouth.

"Who are you going to take, Kyle?" Stan was more invested in the conversation now that he had removed his sauce stain.

He felt his face go telltale red. "Uh…I don't know. I don't think I'm going to ask anyone."

Stan slugged him in a manner that was meant to be playful, but with the sheer amount of his muscle, was downright painful. "C'mon. You've got to ask someone. We're still trying to finally get you laid, remember?"

A vivid memory of having sex with Stan's girlfriend the weekend before flashed through Kyle's mind. "There's no rush."

Kenny noticed Kyle's panic and tried to help the situation. "What about Milly Larsen? She's been in love with you since sixth grade. Ask her."

"Milly's cute," Stan added, getting excited and grinning at his best friend. "Dude, call her."

Kyle grimaced like he was in pain. "No. I shouldn't. That would be so weird for me to just call her out of the blue without any warning."

"Call her." Kenny's voice was uncharacteristically adamant.

Kyle blanched and swallowed. Lying had never really been his strongest suit, but he was in way too deep with Wendy now for him to start dropping hints to Stan that he had something to be worried about. With a shaking hand, he reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out his phone, scrolling through his contacts until he found Milly's number.

"Are you sure about this?" He tried. "We've never even gone out before. I don't think she'll say yes."

"Just fucking call her already," Stan joked.

Kenny gave Kyle a deathly serious look and he knew that he'd have to ask someone eventually, even if it wasn't Milly. He had to keep ensuring that Stan would never guess Kyle was seeing Wendy.

He pressed the green button, calling her.

It rang for a few seconds before Milly answered. Kyle could hear girls talking in the background and music playing. "Kyle?"

"Yeah, hi, Milly."

Even though she covered the mouthpiece of the phone, he could still hear her ask her girlfriends to turn down the music. "Hey! What's up, you never call me."

He laughed uneasily. "I know. Sorry to do it so suddenly. I just wanted to talk to you."

Stan was so giddy in his seat he couldn't wipe his goofy grin off of his face. "What is she saying?" He whispered harshly.

Kenny brought a finger to his lips, silencing Stan, leaning closer to Kyle's phone to try and hear the other end of the conversation.

"Oh! That's sweet of you. What did you want to talk about?"

Satisfied, Kenny nodded, failing to hide his smirk. Stan gave Kyle an enthusiastic thumbs up.

"So…you know junior prom is coming up…" Kyle suddenly felt like a complete idiot and buried his face in his free hand.

Milly shushed one of the girls on the other end that squealed ecstatically. " _Yes?_ " She asked hopefully.

"Would you like to be my date?" He blurted.

At least four girls on the other end shrieked. He could've sworn he heard one of them fall off of a piece of furniture and land on the floor with a thud.

"I'd love to," Milly gushed, sounding like she smiling from ear to ear. "I'm so glad you asked me!"

Stan and Kenny high fived across the table. Kyle was feeling a bit numb so he was glad Stan threw an arm around his shoulders to anchor him back to Earth.

"Awesome. I'll call you later, I guess." He'd be lying if he said he wasn't disappointed.

"Okay, it's kind of last minute – which is totally fine, I'm _really_ happy that you asked me – but I already got my dress and it's green. Are we going to match?"

Kyle wasn't aware that couples matched during prom. "Sure?"

"Okay! Cool! Um, I can give you the shawl it came with at school on Monday so you can get a tie to match. I want the dress to be a surprise."

That annoyed him a little bit. It wasn't like they were getting _married_ or anything like that. Why did it matter if he knew what her dress looked like?

"All right, sounds fine. I'll see you on Monday. Bye, Milly."

Milly giggled into the phone. "Bye, Kyle."

He hung up with a deep sigh. Kenny and Stan looked like they'd never been so excited in either of their lives.

"Dude. She's so desperate she's going to be ripping your clothes off in the limo."

Stan's comment rubbed Kyle the wrong way. Was he really so ugly and nerdy that he needed a desperate girl to take pity on him for one night of their lives?

"Yeah."

Kenny clapped Kyle on the back. "Don't worry about it, man. The first time always sucks."

Actually, Kyle's first time _hadn't_ sucked. Sure, there had been a fair amount of awkward fumbling and nervous laughter, but all in all he wouldn't have changed losing his virginity to Wendy for anything. She'd made him feel safe and comfortable and loved. Milly was just…Milly. She wasn't a girl that he had feelings for. He didn't want to have sex with her. Hell, he didn't even want to go to _prom_ with her. He felt bad for using her to divert suspicions away from the affair he was having.

Kyle remained silent for the rest of their Buffalo Wild Wings outing.

* * *

Bebe didn't know how to act around Kenny anymore. After their big fight, she'd sheepishly gone to talk to their boss and asked if she could stop working with him. The manager had given her a funny look and asked why, to which Bebe replied, 'Just teenager drama. It'll blow over soon.' The manager switched Kenny's usual job so that instead of using his winning smile to sell concessions, he was up in the projector room running all the films. Now Bebe was stuck making ICEE after ICEE while Craig manned the nacho cheese pumps and turned off customers with his icy glare and nasal drone.

Today was one of her shifts where Craig had been largely unhelpful and Bebe's hair had gone from it's usual frizzy mess to a near afro and required the help of not one, but _two_ gigantic scrunchies to subdue it into a ponytail. Her skin was oily from standing in front of the deep fryer to make chicken strips and mozzarella sticks, and she had just broken the tip of her glittery purple fake nail off while trying to remove a penny from the crack between counter and the candy display case. Her patience was running thin – exactly the same way her foundation had been melting off her face for the past two hours.

She was trying to see if a drop of super glue would fix her nail because she had _just_ gotten them done. A customer approached the counter and cleared their throat. Bebe looked up impatiently, abandoning the tube of super glue and the fractured tip of her nail on the counter.

It took all of her willpower to prevent her jaw from hitting the floor. It didn't take a genius to realize that Bebe had a thing for bad boys and tough guys, but at the mouthwatering sight of the boy in front of her, covered from head to toe in vicious looking tattoos and smelling of motorcycle oil with a lower lip packed with chewing tobacco, she was practically drooling the second she laid eyes on him.

He had a surly expression and close-cropped dirty blonde hair. When he spoke, he had a low, Southern drawl.

"Can I get a box of Junior Mints, doll?"

What she wanted to say was, 'Yes, you may have a box of Junior Mints – and me,' but instead she only nodded blankly and robotically pulled the box out from the display case, worried if she blinked or looked away all six feet of that hunky redneck would be gone.

There was no way she was about to let this meeting become a missed opportunity. As the mystery hillbilly pulled out his wallet, Bebe scrambled for a marker and scrawled her number on the Junior Mints, hiding her work behind the register.

He handed her exact change and gave a two-finger salute before walking into the movie. Bebe sighed dreamily as his image disappeared behind the velvet tufted doors.

"Bebe."

Craig's voice snapped her out of her fantasies in her mind.

"What, Craig?"

He sneered at her. "Why'd you give Trent Boyett your number?"

"Who?"

Craig rolled his eyes and wiped down the nacho cheese counter with a wipe. "Trent Boyett. He went to juvie like three times."

She rested her chin in her hand and smiled. "Oh."

"For serious stuff. He tried to rob a bank at gunpoint once."

Bebe gave him a look. "I don't believe you."

"That might be a rumor. No one knows."

The blonde turned to face Craig. "Hold on a second. Why does it matter to you who I'm handing my number out to? We aren't exactly the best of friends."

He shrugged. "I was just trying to look out for you."

"I don't need you to look out for me. I can look out for myself."

Craig held up his hands in defense and silently returned to his work.

Juvie…who cared if mystery hunky boy had gone to juvie? The past two guys Bebe had been romantically involved with had been criminals in a different way. Clyde had used her to cover up the fact that he was gay and subsequently had given her the clap, and Kenny had put naked pictures of her on the internet. She was pretty sure what Kenny had done was actually a punishable crime. If the worst trait about this new guy was that he'd committed some crimes in his past, how would he be any different than them?

* * *

It's bittersweet that this fanfiction is coming to a close. Don't worry, there's still seven chapters left, but I never truly thought I'd make it this far. Let me know what you guys think!


	20. Chapter 20

**Chapter Twenty**

Kyle had sent Wendy a text with the directions to the location of their mystery date that morning, and she'd spent all day primping and getting ready. Her hair was curled and pinned with little sparkly bobby pins, her dress had been ironed – although she was hoping it wouldn't stay _too_ pristine over the course of the night – and she'd gone over her lips with cupcake flavored lip-gloss. She was so giddy she felt the excitement and giggles pushing up from her belly like gentle acid reflux.

Her mom and dad were looking at work-related documents on the table on her way out the door, too absorbed in their adult woes to pay attention to their daughter. Wendy departed with a pair of weak 'goodbyes' from parents, she climbed into her dad's Prius without attracting too much attention.

The drive was longer than Wendy had been expecting. She went all the way out of town into the backroads, turning on her brights so she could see the pitch-black dirt roads. The drive was almost eerily silent, and as she climbed in altitude up the mountains, spots of spring snow that had failed to melt became thicker and thicker until they were invading the street. Feeling a little uneasy, she kept checking her phone to make sure she hadn't taken a wrong turn anywhere. Just as she was considering calling Kyle and asking him if he'd send the right directions, the road opened up to a gigantic clearing.

Her jaw genuinely dropped. How could she not have realized she was taking the backroads to the town's observatory? She'd only went on field trips there a dozen times. The white-stucco building was dimly lit by a pair of streetlights outside. The telescope that was usually trained to the skies had been put away, making the ceiling a perfect dome.

She parked her SUV and stepped outside into the chilled air. Her heels landed on something earthy and soft. When she looked at the ground, she felt emotion jump up into her throat. Kyle had spread hundreds of pink rose petals on the ground, making a fluttering pathway to the entrance. Could he _get_ anymore romantic?

When she opened the front doors, her breath was once again taken away. A pathway of vanilla-scented candles led into the observing room. Before she could grab the handle, the door opened for her, and Kyle was looking quite smug on the other side.

She hugged him for dear life. "You _didn't,_ " Wendy gushed.

"I did. We've got the whole observatory to ourselves until nine o'clock tomorrow morning."

They broke apart their hug and Wendy took in the rest of the room. There were no lights on except for the dim glow of Kyle's laptop and more heavenly-scented candles surrounding a pile of blankets and pillows on the floor. A foggy champagne bottle flanked by two crystal flutes sat on the floor.

"Champagne?" Wendy asked, taking off her coat and handing it to him.

He took it and hung it on a nearby hook on the wall. "I stole it from my parents' liquor cabinet. They're not going to notice it's missing."

He hoped that was a true statement. As they walked toward the blankets, Wendy turned to him.

"This is probably the most romantic thing that anyone has ever done for me," she confessed, unable to wipe the smile off her face.

Kyle was glad. "Good. To be honest…I wanted to outdo any dates Stan's taken you on before."

Stan's idea of a date included ordering pizza and watching low-quality television for three hours before passing out on the couch and leaving Wendy to escort herself out. Their most romantic date had been when Stan took her out into the middle of the woods to go stargazing and he'd taken her virginity in the bed of his truck during the worst ninety seconds of sex she'd ever had. This _definitely_ topped her best date with Stan by far.

For a while, they laid on the blankets, watching movies on Netflix and finishing the entire bottle of champagne. Wendy's body felt weird and warm all over – she thought maybe she'd had a little too much to drink. Kyle's unfinished second glass was sitting on the tile floor. It had long since gone flat.

His arm, wrapped around her shoulders, was warm and familiar. She laced her fingers through his own and kissed the top of his hand.

"Thanks for doing this for me," she mumbled, nuzzling him affectionately.

Kyle smiled and rested his cheek on the top of her head. "You're welcome. You deserve it."

She kissed him. Every time they kissed, Kyle was never prepared. He still couldn't wrap his mind around how lucky he was to be dating Wendy – even if she was still going out with his best friend at the same time. Before the kiss could go any further, Kyle stopped her.

"I need to tell you something," he said guiltily.

Wendy furrowed her eyebrows in concern. "What is it?" She prepared herself for the worst.

"The guys talked me into asking Milly Larsen to junior prom."

It was a stab in the heart. Of course, she couldn't really be upset because she was going with Stan, but she had still kind of hoped Kyle wouldn't go with anyone else. She remembered Milly gushing about her crush on Kyle in the hallway to the other color guard girls – it wasn't a happy memory. Wendy looked him in the eyes, surprisingly emotional.

"You don't… _like_ her, do you?"

"God no, of course not."

She sighed in relief. "Good."

He sat up a little straighter, looking her straight in the face. "I really didn't want to take her, but Stan was egging me on and so was Kenny, and I figured it would really help us keep our relationship on the down low – "

"I know. You were smart to ask her, really. I'm not that upset."

She was definitely lying but she didn't want her dream date with Kyle to be ruined by Milly Larsen, the flag-twirling homewrecker. The alcohol was making her feel weirdly sensitive and exposed, too. Kyle kissed her on the forehead.

"I'm sorry."

He could read her like an open book. Whenever she got that little line between her eyebrows and she started to chew on her lower lip, Kyle knew she was upset and on the verge of tears. He pressed his lips to her forehead again. Wendy seized his face in both of her hands and kissed him deeply.

If there was one thing Milly Larsen wasn't going to have, it was the way Kyle kissed Wendy.

* * *

Bebe had never had so much chemistry over the phone with a boy before. Usually things fizzled out via iMessage fifteen minutes in, but not this time. She and Trent had been firing witty texts back and forth since she'd gotten up the courage to scrawl her number on his box of Junior Mints. With every compliment and playful jab, she found the aching spot that resided deep in her chest over how things had ended with Kenny gently ebbing away.

She laid belly down on her bed, a gigantic faux fur pillow under her chin, grinning at her phone screen. Her acrylic nails click-clacked against the glass.

 _'junior prom is next saturday and i still havent found a dress,'_ she typed at lightning speed, punctuating her sentiment with two emojis sticking their pink tongues out.

Within seconds, Trent had responded. _'You'll look good in whatever you pick lol.'_

She felt her face go warm. Before she could compose a text, Trent had already sent another message.

 _'Do you have a date yet?'_

Bebe sighed. No, she didn't have a date, and she didn't appreciate Trent rubbing salt in that particularly painful wound. She informed him of her predicament and waited, getting a queasy feeling in her stomach that she couldn't quite put her finger on.

Her phone vibrated in her hands against her thumbprints. She opened his latest message.

 _'Can't fathom why a cute girl like you doesn't have a date yet.'_

She sank her teeth into her lip and sit her phone down on her polka dot sheets. She didn't have a date because the boy she wanted to ask her hadn't yet, and he was likely to never do it. It wasn't like it was his fault. It was Lola's fault, actually, for blackmailing her with incriminating dirt on Wendy. Why should Bebe have to suffer for Wendy's mistakes? She had a good thing going with Kenny before she had to go out and kiss Kyle in public.

The blonde decided it was best to swallow down her pain with the dregs of Dr. Pepper that were left in her Taco Bell cup and leave Trent on read.

* * *

Um wowwww it's been so long since I've even looked at this fic, guys. Sorry. Life gets in the way, you lose interest in things as you get older, etc, etc. I was also in a half year writer's block, believe it or not, and pretty much anything I tried to put forth for this story ended up badly (kind of like the chapter above, which was short, boring, and probably not what you wanted to come back to.) I'm going to try my best to see this fic through no matter how long it takes. Happy LATE one-year anniversary of publishing Muffin Tops & The Archive! Let me know your guys' thoughts!


	21. Chapter 21

**Chapter Twenty-one**

Kyle understood that asking a girl to prom usually indicated to her that you liked her. Although that wasn't true for his situation, he couldn't exactly _tell_ Milly that he was about as interested in her as he was in being hit by a bus. So, here he was, stuck in a frozen yogurt café with a strawberry blonde girl glued to his arm while she daintily scooped bite after bite of cheesecake soft serve into her lips, making sure to alluringly lick the back of the spoon.

He kept trying to convince himself that this was all in the name of keeping up his facade. If he could just make it to the end of senior year, then he and Wendy could be _normal._ Every day that goal seemed harder to achieve and light years away.

He had chosen a booth in the back of the restaurant, that way if anyone came in they wouldn't see him with her. This had worked – Kyle hadn't seen anyone from school yet and Milly was excited that he was trying to get privacy for the both of them, but for what, Kyle had no intelligent guesses. Even through his relationship with Wendy, he'd discovered little to nothing about women in general, other than that they _usually_ smelled really nice and were just as sensitive as all the movies made them seem. Quantum physics actually made more sense to him than girls.

He was annoyed that she didn't even have the decency to sit on the other side of the booth. She, unlike Wendy, who usually smelled like expensive floral perfume, smelled nauseatingly of sugary sweet peaches and hairspray. Her plastic spoon was coated in a thick layer of hot pink raspberry lip-gloss and glitter.

She caught him staring at her. Although his expression was that of disgust, she was too lovesick to catch the hint and she grinned at him.

"Silly, you've got frozen yogurt on your lip," she twittered, reaching forward to wipe his mouth clean with her thumb.

 _Silly._ This was silly, Milly was right. Who was he fooling? He was up to his ears in love with Wendy. Any other girl just seemed like a waste of space compared to her.

Milly was staring doe-eyed at Kyle, blinking her long eyelashes incredibly purposefully. Her eyes lingered on his now clean lips, staring at them hungrily. Kyle swallowed at the realization that Milly wanted him to kiss her.

He would've rather downed a gallon of arsenic. She slowly inched forward, closing the gap between their faces. Kyle clamped his eyes shut in anticipation of the contact with Milly's lips. When they met, the were parted, and she wasted no time ramming her tongue between his hesitantly open teeth.

His tongue was a soldier fighting off a mythical, tentacular creature. Seconds into their kiss she moaned eagerly into his mouth, forcing concerned looks their way from the employees of the frozen yogurt café. Kyle finally managed to wedge his hands between their sandwiched bodies, pushing Milly away by the shoulders.

"You're a really good kisser," she giggled, face red and shiny with excitement.

Kyle made a noise halfway between a plea of help and an uncertain laugh in response.

Their date, thankfully, ended minutes later as Milly realized she was going to be late for her curfew. Kyle dropped her off at her house, getting more and more thrilled by the prospect of his obligatory date ending so he could go home and FaceTime Wendy, divulging the nightmare that was his three hours spent with Milly's sweaty body stuck to his arm.

She climbed out of the passenger side before doing a roundabout to Kyle's window. She tapped on it impatiently and he rolled it down. The smell of peaches was now hitting him from both sides.

"I had a _really_ good time," she said with meaning. "I'll see you at band practice."

How could he forget that they were in marching band together? Did she honestly expect him to be able to play the trumpet if one of his arms was constantly being clung to?

"Yeah. See you at band practice."

Kyle put his finger on the trigger to roll the window up, but before he could, she jammed her face into the car, forcefully kissing him again.

"Bye!" She shouted, running across her yard and into her house.

As he wiped the raspberry lip-gloss off of his mouth with the back of his sleeve, all Kyle could think was good riddance.

* * *

At cheer practice on Wednesday, all of the girls were gushing about their dates to the upcoming junior prom. It would seem that everyone had a date except for Bebe, and it was usually the other way around, so she was feeling particularly bitter about the situation. Nicole was going with Token – they had gotten back together for the fourth time this year – and of course Wendy was going with Stan, but the hottest topic of conversation was _Clyde_ going with _Kevin_. The girls were in absolute shock that Clyde, one of the cutest boys on the football team, was secretly into dudes. They were too nice to ask Bebe to her face, but she knew they were all wondering if Bebe had any inkling of his true sexuality during their relationship. The answer was no.

The girls, sans Bebe, who was sulking on the bleachers, just within earshot of their conversation, gossiped around the plastic orange cooler. Piles of their white and hunter green pompoms had been abandoned on the shining lacquered gym floor in exchange for paper cones of ice cold Gatorade.

Bebe had long since moved on from everything that had happened with Clyde. She might have even gone as far as to say it had made her into a better person, because it had given her inner strength or something else poetic along those lines. But hearing a bunch of girls who had no idea what Bebe had gone through on Clyde's journey to discovering himself talking about how adorable he and Kevin were made her want to rip out her eyeballs with salad forks.

There was still ten minutes left in their break. Bebe stood to get herself a drink, stretching against her practice uniform, when her phone buzzed in her back pocket. She pulled it out, wondering who was texting her at this hour – all of her friends who _weren't_ in cheer knew she was usually too busy to text back during practice times.

 _'Hey doll I had a quick question for you,'_ Trent had sent. Bebe, confused, texted back a row of question marks.

There was a pause. She took the time waiting for Trent's response to grab a cone of Gatorade and gather the girls' scattered giant megaphones into one central area. By the time she had rounded up the cheerleaders and gotten them to pick their pompoms back up, he finally responded.

 _'Want to go to that prom with me?'_

She felt all of the blood in her body rush into her face.

 _'sure,'_ she responded, a bit too hastily.

The girls, awaiting instructions from their captain, huddled around her phone before breaking into simultaneous squealing.

"Bebe got asked to prom!" One of them shrieked.

Wendy, who had been adjusting her ponytail away from the rabble, took a few steps closer. "What? By who?"

Nicole squinted at Bebe's phone screen before the blonde snatched it from view, storing it in her pocket.

"Trent!"

Bebe tried to settle down the girls before their coach came back. "Calm down! We've still got an hour of practice left, we can talk about it later!"

Before the girls could cause any more ruckus, their coach returned, and they were forced into windows to practice their latest cheer. Bebe was too distracted to give her all.

She'd been asked to prom. She had a date. So why did she feel so…empty? There was no more time to think about the feelings swirling around in her gut with her Gatorade. Bebe had cheering to do.

* * *

Another short chapter! I'm trying to churn these out, there's only a few more and Muffin Tops will be over! Although I have plans for a sequel in the works, with the new semester approaching we'll just have to see if I have time for that. Anyway, let me know what you think, and be sure to subscribe and all that goodness if you haven't already. Thanks!


	22. Chapter 22

**Chapter Twenty-two**

After band practice that Thursday, Kyle was storing his trumpet in his band locker in the music hallway, minding his own business and quite at peace with the world after just being informed that Milly had caught a twenty-four-hour stomach virus from her cheesecake flavored frozen yogurt after their date. As he closed the latch and spun the lock closed, Wendy came barreling around the corner, her black hair whipping violently behind her.

"Hey, Wendy – " he started, beginning to grin.

"We need to talk," she spat, cutting him off with her nostrils flared.

Kyle didn't know why, but he suddenly feared for his life.

Wendy pulled him into the now-empty band room, slamming the door behind them. She was still dressed in her mathlete uniform, an unflattering boxy black polo with forest green slacks. Judging by the bright blue ribbon pinned on her shirt, the match had gone well. Judging by her fuming expression, everything else in her life was _not_ going well.

He didn't want to ask. Thankfully, Wendy got right to the point.

"You _kissed_ Milly on your fake date with her?"

Kyle felt like someone had dropped a bowling ball in his sternum. "Uh…how did you hear about that?"

"Never _mind_ how I heard about it, why did you kiss her?" Her hands were in stiff fists on her hips, ready to start swinging.

He tugged at his collar. "I didn't really kiss her, she kissed me…" he started, suddenly feeling horrendously guilty and unable to meet eyes with his secret girlfriend. "It wasn't a big deal."

Apparently, that was the wrong thing to say. Wendy's eyes went wide as furious saucers. "Not a big deal? In case you haven't noticed, _I'm_ your girlfriend, not her!"

Kyle frowned. "Oh, so you can have sex with Stan and keep dating him but when Milly kisses me – against my will – it's a problem?"

Wendy tried to calm herself with a deep breath. "I haven't slept with Stan in ages."

"And? You guys are still _together_. I can't even understand why _._ You barely talk, and for some reason you're still going to prom with him even though you guys obviously can't stand each other anymore."

She threw her hands in the air, exasperated, before burying them in her hair. "God, why did we _ever_ think this was going to work?"

He felt a little bit of queasy panic bubble up in his chest. "What do you mean?" He was suddenly insecure, like he was on the edge of a very tall cliff with no railing to protect him from toppling to his death at the smallest misstep.

Wendy sat in a stray chair, kicking the carpet with the toes of her patent-leather black loafers. "This," she said, gesturing in front of her. "Us dating. It can't even really be called dating, can it? It's just plain _cheating._ "

Kyle's heart was racing. "But we love each other, right? I mean, that's why it's all worth it. Remember? Harvard and MIT? Our future together?" His voice was slowly crawling upwards in octaves.

"Right." She crossed her arms over her mathlete shirt, picking at a stray thread on her sleeve. "…I don't know. I love you. I do. But this is so wrong. I'm yelling at you for kissing some girl when you only did it so my other boyfriend doesn't start to suspect that we're secretly dating. It doesn't make any sense. We're kidding ourselves."

He struggled to find an argument against her words. She kept talking, staring at a xylophone pressed against the wall.

"I still love Stan. Not the way I love you, but…I still have feelings for him, and I care about him, in this weird way. I keep trying to convince myself that's why we've been going behind his back, to spare his feelings, but if I really cared about him then we wouldn't even be in this situation in the first place." She gave a dry laugh, breaking up her rambling thoughts. "God. I'm too much of a coward to face everyone at school without being Stan's girlfriend. I've been Stan's girlfriend for most of my life. Without being that, it's like…a piece of me is gone, you know? It's a part of my identity."

"What about being my girlfriend?" Kyle asked, his voice meek. What he really wanted to ask was, _'Could you see_ me _being a part of your identity?'_

She bit her lip, thinking deeply. "I don't know. I'd still be me, I know that, but everything would be different, wouldn't it?" Suddenly, she slumped forward, burying her face in her hands. "I'm not even as smart as everyone says I am. If I was then I would know what to do right now."

"That's not true," he said. "Look _, I_ know that I'm as smart as they say, and I don't know what to do, either."

Wendy smiled despite herself before shaking her head. "Maybe we should end it."

Being stabbed in the heart would've hurt less than hearing those words. He winced. "No."

"Then what should we do? We're going to go crazy going on like this."

He shrugged, at a loss. "Anything but break up. Please."

She gave him a look like he was a puppy that wouldn't last for much longer. She would have to put him down, and she one hand on the bag that she would eventually drown him in.

"Okay. Let's just forget about it."

Try as they might, that would prove to be impossible.

* * *

Bebe had a date that Thursday with Trent. Instead of finishing high school, he'd gone to work for his parents at their shooting range a couple of miles out of town. She'd agreed to meet him there so they could get to know each other a little better before the junior prom on Saturday.

Her stomach wasn't light and airy with girlish jitters before a big first date with a new beau – instead, it was heavy and hot and nervous. She felt like her guts had been tossed in a butter churn. In the girls' bathroom, she grabbed a handful of brown paper towels, shoving them under her gingham top and blotting the sweat from her armpits and underneath her boobs.

She tugged at the bottom of her shorts, hoping to alleviate some of the pain from her chub rub. Powdering the shine on her nose with a powder compact one last time before spritzing perfume on her neck, she took a deep breath, still trying to convince herself that this date was a good idea.

Before she could go out to the lobby and meet Trent, her phone dinged in her pocket. The old tech crew group chat from _Little Shop_ that she'd forgotten to delete had a new message. She opened it – there was a picture attachment that hadn't loaded yet. Bored, she rapped her long fingernails against the countertop, sighing.

The picture finally finished downloading. It was a screenshot from Snapchat. Bebe squinted her eyes at it, bringing her phone closer to her face.

There was no way.

Was it really? It had to be.

Lola and Kenny were prom dress shopping together. Lola was wearing a hideous aqua blue tutu-style number, the bodice caked from tit to navel in holographic crystals, posed in the mirror while Kenny stared at something off-camera, listless. The caption read, _'shoppin w my date lol'_ and three sparkling pink heart emojis.

Kenny was taking Lola to prom. That vindictive bitch had gotten exactly what she wanted.

Bebe gripped her phone hard enough to almost crack the screen, gritting her teeth together. She threw it in her purse, stomping out to the lobby, where Trent was removing his nametag behind the counter. The clock on the wall had just reached seven.

"Hey, doll," Trent smiled. "Ready to do some shooting?"

Bebe felt much less nervous about the ordeal after Trent gave her a tour of the place and a rundown of basic gun safety. He strapped her into bulky ear protection and gave her a pair of scuffed safety glasses that rubbed the foundation off the bridge of her nose.

They stood together in a stall with a table that looked out over the range, facing rows of red-centered shooting targets. Bebe's hands were damp with tepid sweat as she grabbed the heavy black gun from the table, careful to keep her index finger away from the trigger even though the safety was still on. Trent gave her a reassuring smile.

"Don't worry. It's only scary the first few times." His voice was hard to make out through the earmuffs.

Bebe wanted to disagree but her mouth had gone sandpaper dry. Holding something that had the potential to take a life was making the leftover egg drop soup she'd had for dinner go rancid in her stomach.

"Here," he coaxed, coming up behind her and pressing his big belt buckle against the small of her back, "I'll do it with you."

Vivid flashbacks of Bebe's first date with Kenny flew threw her mind like whiplash. Trent did not have the warm, comfortable, familiar scent of Kenny, however. He smelled like a mix of Skoal, Axe Body Spray, and stale maple-glazed donuts. His body was harder than Kenny's, stockier and sturdier. The sleeves of his Henley shirt were prickly against the blonde hair of her arms.

He positioned his hands over hers, carefully turning off the safety and helping her aim towards the target some fifty feet away. Bebe couldn't push herself to pull the trigger. Trent did it for her, the loud bang of the bullet causing her to flinch and shut her eyes. The shell casing tinkled as it hit the linoleum floor.

When Bebe opened her eyes, she focused on the jagged black hole that had been ripped just off-center of the target. Her heart was pumping icy cold blood through her body. She swallowed, a bead of sweat making its way down the nape of her neck. She decided that she did _not_ like guns.

Trent said something quietly that Bebe couldn't make out. She turned to look at him as he set the gun down on the table. He spoke again, and she watched his lips in an attempt to make out what he was saying.

He, in turn, looked at her own lips, twisted in confusion. Her hands reached up to remove her earmuffs and he grabbed one of them before closing the gap between their faces.

 _Oh my God,_ Bebe thought, instinctively squeezing the life out of Trent's hand, _he's kissing me. He's kissing me, right now, in the middle of a fucking shooting range._

His tongue snaked between her teeth and she felt nervous heat crawl up her legs, replacing the cold fear that had set in earlier. One of his rough hands cupped her cheek, his fingers pressing into the back of her head. Bebe's face was warm and her lips were hypersensitive.

Trent was a _really_ good kisser.

She found her arms around his neck, vacantly roaming the exposed skin above the neckline of his shirt, feeling his collarbones and the heat that oozed from his sun-beaten skin. Trent reached down low, seizing both of her legs, using the momentum to carry her to the table. They parted so he could move the handgun away, meeting again with heat and passion.

Bebe could feel Trent's hardon pressing against her shorts as they kissed. The last time she'd been like this with a boy she'd been drunk and without the liquid courage she was nervous and queasy. She didn't know if she was ready to go any farther. Her thoughts ran a mile a minute in her head before they came to a screeching halt. One of his hands brushed over the front of her top and her eyes opened, the moment broken.

She saw a security camera in the corner, looming over them like the big black eyeball of an all-seeing fish. Gently, she pushed Trent away, who wiped his wet lips with the back of his hand, catching his breath.

"I'm sorry," she said, like a reflex. "I'm just not…"

He forced a smile that seemed out of place in the moment. "It's fine. Really. Don't worry about it, doll."

Her eyes skimmed over the pitched tent in his pants and she felt blush spread over her chest. "I think I should get home."

"Yeah. Okay."

He drove her home, and Bebe didn't invite him in.

* * *

THIS STORY IS ALMOST DONE I SWEAR! I've been so busy with work and school and other shenanigans. Let's all remember when this was updated once a week lol. Anyway, hope you guys enjoyed this chapter, and there's only 2 more left! (Plus an epilogue!)


	23. Chapter 23

**Chapter Twenty-three**

Bebe was never seen without a set of wildly over decorated acrylic nails, ranging from hot pink to electric blue, always covered in glitter, crystals, or some kind of complicated drawing. Wendy, however, usually bared her natural nails, sometimes coating them in a shiny clear polish or painting them for some kind of academic event. For prom, she was following in the footsteps of her best friend, who had taken her to the best nail salon in South Park.

"Hi, Bebe," one of the nail ladies said from her spot at her table, voice muffled through her face mask.

Bebe grinned. "Hi, Trish. Two acrylic sets and gel pedicures, please."

"Got it. There's going to be a five-minute wait."

The blonde waved it away. "No problem. Take your time."

Before the two girls could sit on the sofa in the waiting area, a high-pitched voice started up from the seat in front of Trish the nail lady.

"Bebe? Wendy? Oh my God! How weird running into you two here!"

Wendy's skin crawled like a roach had skittered across it. "Hi, Milly."

Milly was getting a lime green manicure with silver glitter tips and a little pink flower on each thumb. It was something a ten-year-old would've been proud to sport to a school dance.

"Cute nails," Wendy said, her voice only slightly poisonous considering the feelings she was harboring for the strawberry blonde. "Green dress?"

She nodded enthusiastically, two fat dimples in her freckled cheeks, each as deep as the Grand Canyon. "Yup! Kyle's got a matching bowtie and cummerbund. We're going to look _so_ cute together at prom." Not sensing that Bebe and Wendy would've rather been talking to a German Gestapo officer as Jews during World War II, Milly trucked along. "And no one in our limo is wearing the same color, which is so great for pictures. Like, Wendy and Stan are wearing purple, right?" She looked at Wendy, who nodded in stoic response. "And Lola and Kenny are wearing teal. We're all in cool colors so none of us are clashing."

Bebe would've begged to differ that Milly's nauseating shade of lime green would've crashed with literally _every_ other color in the spectrum, but kept her lips sealed.

"Who are you going with, Bebe?" Milly asked.

The blonde forced a smile. "I'm riding in a limo with Tweek and Craig, Nichole and Token, and Clyde and Kevin."

Milly's head cocked to the side like a dog. "Huh? Don't you have a date?"

Bebe's cheeks went pink under her foundation. "Yeah, it's uh…Trent Boyett."

"Oh." She licked her cake batter lip-gloss. She swirled her tongue around over her teeth in thought before giving Bebe an unsure smile. "Well, have fun."

"Thanks."

The girls stood there for a few painful seconds before Trish dotted each of Milly's nails in cuticle oil. "There. Done. Thank you. Pay up front, please."

As she paid, Wendy noticed that Milly didn't leave a tip.

* * *

Stan wasn't exactly _excited_ about prom, but he wasn't against it either. He knew that ultimately, at the end of the night, he would be guaranteed sex with Wendy because that's just how proms worked and everyone knew it. He was trying on his tux rental at the Men's Warehouse, examining his body from every angle, admiring how the black fabric stretched against his biceps when he moved. Kyle, on the other hand, was staring at his lime green cummerbund in his reflection in vague disgust, wondering how he had put himself into a situation where he would have to be seen in public committing such a heinous crime against fashion.

"God, that bowtie is horrible," Stan grimaced, watching as the redhead adjusted it against his Adam's apple.

Kyle frowned. "I'm aware."

Stan shot his best friend a sour look in the mirror that Kyle caught. The tension in the fitting room was palpable. An employee poked his head in through the door before either of the boys could say something they'd regret.

"Everything all right in here, fellas?"

"Yes," they responded in unison. Even if everything wasn't all right, fixing a failing relationship between two teenage boys was out of his power and above his paygrade.

"Great. You can pay up front when you're ready."

Once the worker was gone, the boys were alone again, and they both cleared their throats at the same time.

Stan made the first brave move to speak. "So, how's everything going with Milly?"

Milly this, Milly that. Could Kyle get through one godforsaken day without being asked about some annoying girl he'd been pressured into asking to prom?

"Fine." Kyle's lips were tight and white.

"Well, sorry for asking, dude, I was just wondering."

The black-haired boy began removing his suit, starting with his plum purple tie that brought out the blue tones of his eyes. "You've been so weird lately. Is everything good with you?"

Kyle would've loved nothing more than to break down in that fitting room and tell Stan everything. Instead, he sighed, shaking his head. "Yeah. Everything's good. What about you?"

Stan shrugged dismissively. "I dunno. Pretty good. There was a scout from Ohio State at last weekend's game."

"Ohio State? Wow. That's a great school."

He grinned. "I know. It's like, the best school for football in the _country._ I was kind of shocked they came all the way out here for me."

Kyle was beginning to turn the shade of his cummerbund and bowtie. "Well, good luck, man."

"Thanks."

In his head, Kyle was reveling in the private thought of Stan being good enough to get a spot on a college team but not having the grades to get in. He would be forced to admit that being attractive and athletic weren't the only things in life that mattered, and maybe he would even entertain the notion of looking up to _Kyle_ for once instead of the other way around. He knew that even if he got into MIT and became a world-famous engineer and made millions of dollars a year he would probably always feel inferior to the effortless good looks of Stan. Stan, who never had to really try hard for anything, because everything in his life came easy to him – friends, his perfect girlfriend, football, family…ultimately, Stan probably _would_ get into a great college and go on to the NFL, and Kyle and all the people of South Park would become an afterthought of the small town he once called home.

Not realizing his train of thought had left him sober and depressed, the boys spent the rest of their Men's Warehouse fitting in absolute silence. Privately, Stan wished he had the courage to ask Kyle if he could help him out with their Spanish homework that was due on Monday. Pride would forever be the bane of their relationship.

* * *

Sporting a gorgeous pair of pale pink, stiletto shaped nails, complete with little plastic bows on the ring finger and each dusted with a delicate coat of holographic glitter, Bebe rolled into Target to grab deodorant with her mom before the big dance. Prom day would be jam-packed with hair appointments and redoing full faces of makeup for the tenth time and more last-minute trips to Target, so Mrs. Stevens had grudgingly taken her daughter to the superstore late that night, sipping on a glass of white wine hidden in her Yeti.

Bebe had secured her favorite Dove deodorant and was eyeing the lip-gloss display out of the corner of her eye when her mom began wheeling the red cart towards the card display. Sighing and only a little disappointed, Bebe followed behind, watching carefully as Mrs. Steven's plucked a Mother's Day card from the rack and read it carefully.

"Mom, what are you doing?" Bebe asked, checking the time. She needed at least ten hours of beauty sleep before her nine o'clock highlight session at the hair salon in the morning to avoid horrible eye bags.

Mrs. Stevens put the card back and pulled out one that sang a terrible song. "Looking at Mother's Day cards for your grandmother."

"Prom is tomorrow."

"I know that, Bebe, I'm just taking five minutes to look at Mother's Day cards."

Flushed pink from the embarrassment of her mom reprimanding her above a whisper in public, Bebe grabbed a random card with a baby bunny holding a bouquet of roses on the front. "Here. Done. A cute card for Nanna."

Mrs. Stevens rolled her eyes and took a sip from her tumbler. "Quit being so selfish. We'll go home in just a minute. Let me look at these cards!"

Bebe's mother had attracted the attention of every shopper in a twenty-foot radius. She felt the sick of embarrassment rising in her belly as she shrank from the peering eyes of onlookers. Mostly, she was just pissed at her mom.

"Mom," Bebe began, not sure whether she should plead or argue. Before she could continue talking, something orange moved in her peripheral vision, and she stopped dead in her tracks.

Kenny was trying to remain unseen as he reached for the baby bunny card, looking embarrassed for Bebe and himself. He flashed her a queasy grin and made a dash for the self-checkout, a small girl following behind him, her eyes glued on Bebe.

"Is that her?" She whispered harshly, pulling on the back of Kenny's hoodie.

He didn't respond, looking too eager to get out of there while he could.

The girl nodded. "She _is_ pretty."

While Bebe appreciated the comment that she wasn't supposed to hear, she wondered who the girl could be. She was younger than Kenny, certainly, and there was something oddly familiar about her. Her mousy brown hair looked unwashed and her clothes were rumpled and _maybe_ would've been in style a decade ago. She gasped to herself as she realized that the weird little girl was Kenny's baby sister, Karen, whom Bebe hadn't seen in years. Karen's shy blue eyes remained on Bebe as Kenny scanned the card and nothing else, leaving the store in a rush.

"Here! Perfect," Mrs. Stevens smiled, holding a card that featured a brood of brown monkeys eating glittery bananas on the front. "Isn't that cute?"

"Yeah, mom. Real cute."

* * *

Are y'all as shook as I am that I updated again? Next chapter is the big junior prom! It's going to be a MONSTER chapter so give me a little longer to write that one. After that, we have a quick epilogue, and Muffin Tops & The Archive will be complete. Can you believe it's been over a year since the first chapter was posted? Plus, this thing is the length of an actual book. It's in a word doc that's 130+ pages and over 70,000 words.

Also, this fic has now received over 11,000 views! That's insane to me! I'm so happy that people get a little bit of joy (or at least entertainment) out of my writing. It makes me really happy that something I love can benefit others.

That being said, if you know anyone who has done fanart or something like that, I would probably literally DIE if I got to see it. If not, I'm not surprised lol. I'll see you guys next time for the huge, dramatic update to end all updates! And I'll keep you posted on the status of the sequel. I've written a little bit of plot for it, but I already know if I write one it will be half as long as this.

Love you guys! Let me know what you think!


	24. Chapter 24

**Chapter Twenty-four**

Junior prom was a flurry of nerves, excitement, glitter, and sweaty condom wrappers shoved into the deep recesses of wallets. Painful pictures had been taken in front of fireplace mantles, legs had been waxed and shaved, perfume and cologne liberally applied – the big dance had finally arrived at South Park High School, and the air was thick with the energy of it all.

Bebe and Trent received the brunt of many awkward stares. _Yes,_ she thought, _yes, my prom date just got out of juvenile detention and is a high school dropout. We all know this. Can I please catch a break?_

The answer was no.

They posed together in front of a lopsided balloon arch of black and gold latex. Mountains of glittering tulle were piled along the walls, draped in cheap red velvet to give the vibe of the theme, 'A Night in Hollywood.' A crappily made cutout of the Hollywood sign sat in front of the DJ's booth, being propped up by duct tape and the will of the drama club members who had labored over it the night before.

"Smile!" The photographer called.

Bebe and Trent complied, both sweaty from the heat of the room and the flashing lights.

"Beautiful. Next!"

Trent took Bebe's hand as they moved out of the way, denting her pink rose corsage with his wrist. She looked at it sorely; it had cost her forty-five dollars last minute from the only florist in town.

"What do you want to do, doll?" He asked.

The blonde had to admit that her date cleaned up nice. His previous malodor had gone, he was no longer dipping, and without his pale gold scruff, his jaw was actually pretty handsome. He'd slicked back his hair and Bebe might have even gone far enough to deduce that his mother had taken tweezers to his eyebrows. Either way, most of her icky feelings about him had evaporated, and she was back to fawning over him like she had been when they'd met at the Bijou.

"Let's dance," she grinned, trying to pull him to the dimly lit dancefloor.

Trent didn't let her get very far. "Don't think so."

She turned around to face him, face twisted. "What? Why?"

"I don't dance," he deadpanned.

Bebe bit back the brief bout of frustration that rose within her. "But it's prom, Trent, you're supposed to dance."

"Well, I don't, so."

She sighed, ready to argue, but came to a halt as she noticed what was conspiring on the dancefloor in front of them.

A gigantic blob of teal tutu was grinding on Kenny. He looked _so_ good in his tuxedo that it would've taken her breath away if he wasn't living for every second that Lola was pushing her ass against him. People were clapping and cheering and taking Snapchat videos of the exhibition, leading Lola to gyrate harder, her perfect, apple-shaped boobs jiggling and about to pop out of her prom dress.

Bebe thought she had grown as a person throughout the course of her junior year. She'd lost her virginity, gone through some trying times, gotten a job and stuck with it, and had come to know herself a lot better. Her temper had honestly improved. She didn't fight with her mom nearly as much. She and Wendy were getting along better than ever. Hell, she'd even _volunteered_ to visit her sick uncle over summer break. Sixteen-year-old Bebe would've _never._

She saw red.

"Let's go," she barked at Trent, yanking him out of the gym.

He didn't have time to respond. They spilled into the hallway, and Bebe pulled him toward the handicap bathroom. She knew from experience that it was always unlocked and no one ever used it.

She slammed the door behind them, locked it, and pressed her lips to Trent's so hard that it hurt.

How _dare_ Kenny _humiliate_ her like that? How was he going to go from saying that Bebe was beautiful and had nice tits to letting that harlot of a girl dry hump him in public where everyone at school could see? Her body was burning with fury, shame, embarrassment, and unfamiliar pain. It was the cutting, harsh pain of being _betrayed_. She was stupid to ever think that she had any semblance of a future with him.

Trent stayed silent as Bebe fell to her knees, her skin stinging when it thwacked against the cold linoleum. She undid his fly and yanked his black pants to the floor, bringing his boxers down with them, landing in two messy pools around his ankles. Suddenly, she was extremely close to Trent's crotch, and she realized that it had been a while since she'd actually attempted to blow a guy.

A bit too forcefully, she made a grab for his dick, seizing it with a hard grip. Trent winced but didn't complain. He wasn't completely hard yet, and Bebe was at a loss. It sat in her palm like a warm, near-death snake. She gave him a few weak, resuscitative pumps with her hand before poking her tongue out between her done-up lips and attempting to wake up his member with a quick lick.

It did the trick. While Bebe sucked Trent off, he was oddly quiet, watching her from above with only the occasional grunt or sigh of encouragement. It was making her weirdly self-conscious. Was she actually just _really_ bad at giving blowjobs?

Apparently, the answer was no. She was at least good enough to get a guy off. When she pulled back for breath, he suddenly came, dousing Bebe's chest. She recoiled in disgust, feeling the white syrup run down her cleavage and sink into the nooks and crannies of her necklace. Trent reached over Bebe for a few brown paper towels from the dispenser, handing them to her. She rose from her place on the floor, mopping her chest awkwardly as Trent stepped out of his boxers and pants. She threw the dirtied towels in the trash can.

Wordlessly, Trent grabbed Bebe by her hips, spinning her around so quickly she was forced to grab the sink to prevent herself from toppling over. He gathered her long, champagne pink skirt in his hands, throwing the excess fabric over her back. Before he could remove her underwear, she reached a hand behind herself, pressing gently against his waist.

"Wait," she choked. "Do you have a condom?"

He stepped away to retrieve his wallet from his abandoned trousers, pulling a foil wrapper from it and throwing it on the floor. He tore into it with his teeth and Bebe made sure to watch as he rolled it on. For some reason, she had to stifle a giggle – whether it was because she couldn't believe what she was doing or because penises looked funny with condoms on, she didn't know.

Trent's rough hands dug into the sides of her lacy underwear, yanking them down so hard he left faint white scratches on her hips. He spit on his hand and harshly ran his fingers over her entrance. With a sharp intake of breath, she braced herself for impact.

He plunged into her all at once and so painfully that when she closed her eyes, bright stars appeared in her vision. A loud cry escaped her lips and he she pressed a hand hard against her mouth. The only thing worse than fucking in a bathroom during prom would be getting caught doing it.

One of his hands gathered a chunk of her perfectly curled hair and he used it to pull her head up, her neck straining from the pressure. She could see herself in the mirror, now, and it was not a Bebe she would ever like to see again. Sweat was beginning to pill from beneath her makeup, running like dirty water over her skin. Her eyebrows were warped from pain and confusion and pleasure and her mouth hung open, lipstick smeared. She looked disgusting, despicable. A horrible feeling began to creep into her consciousness.

Bebe was ashamed.

Her choked breath echoed against the tile and cinderblock walls, offset by the dank sound of Trent's flesh hitting the back of Bebe's thighs with each thrust. He wrapped a section of her hair around the back of his hand and yanked, making her cry out. She weakly attempted to make him let go, but just managed to scrape the back of his hand with her new fingernails.

He finished with one violent thrust. Bebe sank her teeth into her lip _._ Trent lingered inside of her, catching his breath, loosening his grip on her hair. When he let go, there were dents in the previously impeccable style, forced into her curls by the lines of his fingers.

He slipped out and threw the condom in the toilet, letting it disappear down the drain with a solemn flush. Bebe pulled up her underwear and stared at herself in the mirror. She used paper towels to dab away the sweat and tears while Trent put himself back together behind her.

After she had cleaned herself up enough to be seen in public, Trent held out a hand.

"Ready?" He asked, acting as if nothing had happened.

Bebe nodded. "Yeah."

When they tried to open the door, it hit someone. The assailant yelped in shock as Bebe gasped, rushing to see who she'd accidentally whacked with the handicap bathroom door.

"Kenny!"

He rubbed his shoulder where he'd been hit. "Oh. It's you."

On his arm was Lola, whose cheeks were flushed red. Her hair was mussed. She hiccupped quietly and sniffled, looking tipsy and doing a terrible job at hiding it.

Bebe let go of Trent's hand and smoothed over her hairdo. A weak titter made its way through her throat and came out as a strained giggle. She noticed Kenny look Trent up and down before turning his focus to her. Eventually, he put two and two together. His expression went dark.

"Glad to see you're having an eventful prom night," he scoffed, shoving past her towards the doors that led to the parking lot.

"Wait!" Bebe tried, but Kenny was already gone, being followed by Lola, who was tripping all over her faux-diamond-encrusted heels.

When she went to chase after Kenny, she felt a hard hand close around her forearm.

"I don't think so," Trent warned, low and dangerous. "You're my date, you hear me? Not his."

Bebe went to protest, but he cut her off.

"You're not leaving my side for the rest of the night."

* * *

A slow song was playing in the gym. Wendy's hands rested delicately around Stan's neck. He stared dreamily into her deep hazel eyes, a faint smile on his lips, watching the swirling lights dance across her skin. His strong, steady hands were on her hips as they swayed to the music. All of their differences now pushed aside, Stan was once again completely lost in Wendy. Her attention, however, was directed towards the couple dancing nearby.

Kyle and Milly's prom night had been going smoothly so far. Milly's parents fawned over Kyle when he picked her up and they took pictures in front of her fireplace, Milly making sure to press her low neckline against his back and chest whenever she got the chance. When they'd gotten in the limo that night, she made sure to drop her clutch, letting two condoms that she'd packed 'accidentally' spill out. Kyle was aware of Milly's intentions for the afterparty. He wished that Milly was aware of his own.

She was full-on hugging him, her cheek against his shoulder as they moved in lazy circles around the dancefloor, Milly completely content. Kyle made eye contact with Wendy every few moments, remembering their night of slow dancing from the hotel room, the memory feeling a million miles away and yet so close and familiar.

Suddenly, Milly peeled her face from Kyle's lapel, looking into his eyes with a fierce and unexpected lust. Before Kyle could react, he was being kissed, and he could feel Wendy's eyes on the entire spectacle.

When they parted Kyle went red with embarrassment. He could feel the anger emanating from Wendy like sickening waves of poison.

Wendy began kissing Stan so passionately that Kyle blushed when he watched them, the act reminding him of something out of a low-budget porno. The couple had stopped dancing during their impromptu make out session, attracting the attention of every promgoer in the gymnasium. Someone began to whistle and cheer. That person turned into two people, then three, then four, until the entire room was filled with people whooping and hollering at the sight of Wendy and Stan, the star-studded couple of South Park, swapping spit on the dancefloor.

Kyle felt the Italian food he'd had for dinner sink in his stomach. Milly snickered.

"God, can't they save that stuff for the bedroom?"

He tore his eyes away from Wendy and Stan to give Milly a weak smile. The slow song finally stopped and she pulled away, letting her fingertips run along the sleeves of his tuxedo, lingering on the flesh of his palms.

"I've got to run to the bathroom really quick. I'll be right back." She winked. "Don't miss me too much, now."

He wouldn't. "Okay. I'll be right here."

A few feet away, Stan was being corralled by his fellow footballers into a photo op. His lips were shiny and swollen from kissing. Finally, he caved, letting the boys from the team take him out into the hallway for pictures. He gave Wendy another quick peck goodbye before leaving the room.

Wendy used the back of her hand to wipe the excess saliva from her mouth and dug in her little purse for lip-gloss as Kyle drew nearer and nearer, hot envy crawling up his neck and into his face, making his cheeks red. When she finally noticed him, she exhaled curtly through her nose.

"Where's your little _date_?" She spat.

Kyle didn't answer, instead getting right to the point as quietly as he could. "What the fuck was that?"

She shrugged. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Making out with Stan like that in front of _everyone_? How immature and childish can you get? I only went with Milly so people wouldn't suspect that we were seeing each other, remember? I did this for us."

Wendy laughed out loud. "You did it for us? Wow, how charitable of you, feeling up some fucking slut on the color guard team in the name of preserving our relationship."

Kyle's hands flexed into angry fists. "I did not feel her up. Unlike you, I'm not trying to make anyone jealous!"

"I'm not trying to make you jealous!" She lied, stomping one of her gold stiletto heels against the lacquered hardwood floor. "No one is trying to make anyone jealous!"

He threw his hands into his hair in exasperation. "You can't even see what you're doing anymore. This…this _shit_ has made us completely crazy!"

"I'm not crazy! Don't you _dare_ call me crazy, Kyle." She pointed a threatening finger in his face.

He rolled his eyes, chewing on his lip and shaking out his hands in an attempt to keep a hold on his anger. It wasn't working. He had gone blind from pure, utter rage.

"God damn it, Wendy! I _knew_ I shouldn't have had sex with you during nationals!"

It had taken Kyle and Wendy exactly two milliseconds to realize that the entire gym had gone quiet while they spectated their entire argument. Kyle swallowed, his throat suddenly dry, taking in the judging eyes of every student around him.

Glass shattered.

Kyle turned around to see Milly, who had been holding two glasses of fizzy grape juice, now reduced to shards on the floor. Her face crumpled in defeat.

"Fuck you, Kyle Broflovski!"

With that, she ran out of the gym. It seemed to be a sentiment held by the entire color guard as they ran out after her, already pulling tissues out of clutches and crying out choruses of ' _are you okay?_ ' The attention shifted to a point behind Wendy and Kyle's heart stopped.

Stan was standing behind his girlfriend, the words that he had wanted to say long dead on his lips. An unclear mixture of emotions was on his face – anger, resentment, sadness – and he finally shook his head.

"Dude." His words were barely audible above the music. "I can't believe you would do this to me."

He turned around, exiting through the part his football team had created in their masses, shaking his head in disbelief. Blindly, Wendy followed.

"Stan!" She cried, tripping in her heels. "Stan, wait!"

Stan shoved the doors to the parking lot open, a gust of spring wind blowing her dress out behind her. She spilled out onto the concrete, unable to hold back her tears, watching as Stan grabbed two fistfuls of hair on either side of his head.

He screamed.

Stan screamed and shouted and yelled until his voice was dry and hoarse and Wendy had started to sob behind him. Then, he flailed, punching and kicking the air, letting his own tears fall.

"Fuck!" He shrieked. " _FUCK!_ "

Wendy struggled to catch her breath. "Stan, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry."

"How did I not see it? God, I'm such a fucking idiot!"

He began rapidly pacing around the parking lot, Wendy staggering along whichever direction he went, unable to calm herself down and keep the level head she had always prided herself on. She felt like she'd never be proud of herself again.

"All the study sessions, all the late nights after that stupid musical, all the clubs and all the talking about college! It was right there the whole time and I didn't see it!"

He cried like a baby. Tears spilled from his blue eyes down his cheeks until they dripped from his chin onto the tuxedo that he had rented from Men's Warehouse with the boy he'd once called his best friend. Wendy had never seen someone so absolutely crushed.

"Stan, I'm sorry – "

"No, you're fucking _not_! If you were sorry, you would've never done it! You would've never gone as far as to – shit, you took Kyle's _virginity._ My girlfriend popped my best friend's fucking cherry and I didn't even know!"

Wendy couldn't get enough air in her lungs to form a response. Stan kicked the tire of a parked truck and yelled into the night again.

She'd never witnessed heartbreak, but now she was watching it all unravel before her eyes. Stan grabbed at his dress shirt, feeling the knife of betrayal digging in deep with its jagged edges. She was hurting, too. Pain like she'd never known was crushing her all over.

"Please, just listen to me," she begged, using the heels of her hands to wipe her tears away. "I'm sorry. I really am. I didn't want to hurt you. I love you. When I'm with you, I'm always home, no matter where I am…" she took a few more gasping breaths. "We've known each other so long and I've loved you for all that time. Not being with you – that thought was so scary, because you're all I'd ever known. And when things went south with us, and my love for you changed, Kyle was there, I guess…I'm sorry, Stan, I'm so fucking sorry."

He couldn't even bring himself to look at her. "Why didn't you just _talk_ to me? Is that so much to ask for, my girlfriend of God knows how long to just take the time to fucking talk to me?" He licked his lips and looked up at the sky like he was asking a higher power the questions instead of Wendy. "You should've told me. You should've said that things weren't going well and you liked Kyle, I could've dealt with that. I could've. Even if it came from him, _anything_ would've been better than finding out like this."

"Stan…" Wendy began, her lips quivering.

He closed his eyes. "No. I don't want to hear any more. We're done."

Wendy tried to speak, but Stan cut her off.

"It's over."

With that, he left.

Wendy was left cold and alone in the parking lot, standing beneath the florescent light of a streetlamp, knowing that no one would come outside looking for her anytime soon. She at least had that to be thankful for.

* * *

The prom dissolved shortly after the debacle. Bebe had attempted to call Wendy at least seven times on the limo ride home, half because she was worried about her best friend and half because she was desperately looking for any kind of distraction from Trent, who had taken to keeping a possessive arm around her for the rest of the night.

Now safely in her kitchen, Bebe began removing her jewelry, leaving it in a glittering pile on the granite countertop. With a heaving sigh, she removed her hairpins, letting her half-updo spill across her shoulders. She desperately wanted to take off her sweaty face of smeared makeup.

Trent had gone to the bathroom. Bebe took the brief moment of peace and quiet to pour herself a glass of water from the fridge filter. She sipped with one arm wrapped around her waist, unable to stop thinking about their hookup in the handicap bathroom. What kind of girl was she? Was she really the kind of girl who let random redneck boys fuck her over the bathroom sink at school because she got angry at some boy she went on one date with?

The fight she'd had with her parents in that same kitchen months ago came rushing back to her like an ocean tide. She really _was_ lost, just like her dad had said. She thought she'd changed since then, but in reality, she was exactly the same insecure girl that had screwed her ex-boyfriend in his parents' bedroom to try and prove to everyone she was something that she wasn't.

Trent appeared in the entryway between the dining room and the kitchen. His face was strangely straight and solemn as he gestured for Bebe's glass of water. She handed it to him and he downed the rest of it in one go.

Bebe looked at her reflection in the kitchen window. The night outside was so black the glass had turned into an inky mirror. She watched as Trent moved up behind her, his hands closing around her waist, causing the silky pink fabric of her dress to rustle around her legs.

He kissed her earlobe, then her neck, letting his lips linger on her shoulder. Bebe felt gravity pull her around so she was facing him, allowing him to press his still-wet lips against her own. She broke the kiss off, too tired for any more romance.

"I'm tired," she felt herself explaining, moving away to pretend to look for snacks in the open pantry. "Sorry."

Trent followed her across the kitchen. His hands lingered on the zipper at the back of her dress, slowly tugging it down before Bebe realized what he was doing. She turned around sharply, feeling a sense of unease come over her.

"What are you doing?" She asked, looking over Trent's shoulder at the kitchen island where her phone once was.

It was missing. Trent smiled dangerously.

"Just trying to get that pretty dress off of you."

Bebe's breath turned shallow. "Thanks, but I like it better on."

Trent leaned in for another kiss, but Bebe put up both of her hands, gently pushing him away by his chest.

"I'm sorry, but I don't want to."

He started to look irritated. "What are you talking about, doll? You sure seemed willing back there at the prom."

"That was then. I don't want to now."

He huffed, clearly agitated. Bebe began to sweat. Her stomach was cold and she felt like was dangling right before the plummet of a treacherous rollercoaster.

She wished her parents were home. Every prom night, it was a local tradition for all the adults to get together and drink to give their kids a night of partying with no regrets – Mr. and Mrs. Stevens were proud participants in the yearly bar-hopping ritual. There wouldn't be any parent on the _block_ still in town.

Trent shot forward, forcefully kissing Bebe, trying to jam his tongue between her tightly sealed lips. He grabbed both of her arms to keep her from pushing him away, so she jumped backwards with her heart racing.

He looked pissed. She didn't know what to do. Sheer panic had gripped her heart.

Trent seized one of the straps of her prom dress and yanked down hard, causing the stitches to snap. They both looked at what he had done before Bebe's instincts kicked in. In a sudden rush of pale pink prom dress and glitter heels, she kicked Trent with all of her might square between the legs.

He doubled over with a shout and Bebe took the opportunity to run out of her house and into the street. She knew it wouldn't be long before he would recover and come after her.

Like a madwoman, she sprinted down the street, losing her expensive heels on the sidewalk as she went. She heard footsteps not too far behind and the only thing that kept her going was the adrenaline pumping through her veins. Her fear was too great to look behind to see how close he really was.

Once she'd gotten two blocks away and she could no longer hear the footsteps following her, she stopped, ducking behind a tree to catch her breath. She needed an actual plan, and fast. The most important thing was getting away from Trent as soon as possible. She decided she would flag down the first car she saw.

It didn't take long for the sound of tires along pavement to approach. Bebe ran out into the street, waving her arms and yelling at the top of her lungs.

"Help! Stop, please!"

The vehicle, a beaten-up Chevy, squealed to a stop just inches away from her. She couldn't see the driver inside the truck past the blinding glow of its headlights, so she made a beeline for the passenger side, climbing in as soon as she heard the door unlock.

Heaving for breath as soon as she sat down, she heard a familiar voice speak.

"Bebe?"

She turned to see Kenny behind the steering wheel, still wearing his prom regalia. She had never been so relieved to see him in her life.

"Sorry to do this, but could you please floor it out of here?"

"Got it."

And so they drove, Bebe struggling to calm down and steady her breathing, until they approached Stark's Pond. Every once in a while, Kenny threw a concerned look across the dashboard at his unexpected passenger, his imagination running wild with ideas of what could have happened to her to put her in such a state. She looked a fright, with windblown hair and streaked makeup, her strapless bra peeking out where her dress had been ripped.

As soon as they parked, Kenny turned to her. "Are you okay?"

She burst into fresh tears. "I'm just so _scared._ "

Kenny let her cry like that for what felt like eons before he reached over and wrapped his arms around her. She cried harder, her body shaking, tears soaking through his white shirt. She ached with terror, now hollow in the absence of the adrenaline that had gotten her that far. The reality of the night came crashing down on her piece by piece, each realization causing her to weep harder. All Kenny could do was run his hands over her hair.

"Trent, he – " she tried.

Kenny shushed her. "It's okay. You don't have to tell me right now."

"No, he could be coming after me, I _have_ to," Bebe begged. "I think Trent tried to rape me."

"Oh."

It was the scenario in his head he hadn't dared dream up.

Bebe wiped her tears away with her fingers. "We – we had sex at the school and it was awful and I hated it and he was acting so weird all night and then we get back to my house and he hides my phone and then tries to kiss me and when I tell him I don't want to he – he ripped my dress, and it was three hundred dollars!"

Kenny nodded, urging her to tell him everything she needed to say.

"I just don't know what to do, he could be back at my house right now! He could be destroying all of my stuff, he could be lighting my fucking car on fire or something!"

"You have to go to the police," Kenny said. "You're going to have to tell them what happened."

Bebe shook her head desperately. "No, I can't. We already had sex tonight, they won't believe me."

"He's a convicted criminal, Bebe. He has a history. I'll testify, I'll do whatever it takes. It's the right thing to do."

"I don't know if I can."

Kenny grabbed her hand and squeezed it. "I know you can."

* * *

Hours later, Kenny and Bebe were released by the Park County Police Department. Officers had gone back to Bebe's house to find it empty, her cellphone back on the kitchen counter where she had originally left it. It took only thirty minutes to find Trent attempting to flee in his dad's van and he was promptly arrested and taken into custody. Although Bebe knew there was nothing Trent could do from his holding cell, she was still too scared to return home.

Plus, Kenny didn't really want her to.

They were sitting in the bed of his truck, waiting for the sunrise at the lake where they'd had their first date. The branches were all in bloom and the translucent blossoms were slowly coming into view in the grey light of the early hours of the morning. Bebe shivered under her blanket, Kenny's suit jacket draped around her shoulders.

"Cold?" He asked.

Bebe shook her head. "Not really. Just still in shock, I guess."

Kenny nodded in understanding. It took everything in him to resist putting his arm around her. He knew that the last thing she needed was another guy touching her.

"I'm sorry," Bebe found herself saying. "I mean it. About everything. We had a good thing going and I ruined it."

He gave her a weak smile and bumped her playfully with his shoulder. "It was mutual."

"For the record, Lola blackmailed me into ending things with you."

The blond rolled his blue eyes. "I know," he said bitterly. "She got trashed after the dance and spilled everything."

Bebe sighed. "Sucks about Stan and Wendy."

He nodded in agreement. "Did you know about…the whole Kyle thing?" Kenny asked.

"Yeah. I've known for a while, now."

Kenny raised his eyebrows. "Really? Same."

They laughed, something that felt insanely foreign after their wild night. Relief began to fill their tired bones. Bebe rested her hand on top of his and looked at him.

"I really appreciate what you did for me. Tonight…was crazy and awful. I'm glad that it was your truck I decided to stop."

He smiled, warm and genuine. "I'm glad, too." He gave her hand a gentle squeeze. "For the record, I would totally kiss you right now under any other circumstances."

She grinned. "For the record? I would totally kiss you back."

Bebe and Kenny turned toward the horizon. Gently, she leaned her head into his shoulder, and he rested his own on top of hers. Through the clouds, the bright sun began to emerge, causing the sky to explode with brilliant colors that were so beautiful they seemed brand new. There had never been a pink, purple, yellow, blue, or white so dazzling in the entire history of the world, of that they were sure. The best part of it all was that morning's sunrise was just for them. No one, not Trent, or Lola, or anyone else at school, no parents or cops or teachers, could ruin that perfect view.

Bebe and Kenny fell asleep in the bed of his truck, both exhausted and well-deserving of a nice nap.

She dreamed of a time when the worst thing in her life was a muffin top, when she cared about something as insignificant as lopsided boobs and boys' opinions of them.

He dreamed of a time when he impressed the guys at school with an online spank bank, The Archive, and how he almost ruined his chances with a perfect girl because of it.

They were both very glad that he hadn't.

THE END

* * *

It's finally over! I mean, the epilogue is coming to wrap up those loose ends that were never addressed, but the story is done.

I thought it would be cool to do a little Q&A session at the end of the epilogue to address any questions that you guys have and for me to talk a little bit about the history behind Muffin Tops & The Archive. I might even add a little teaser for the sequel, but we'll see...

With that being said, **ASK ME ANY QUESTIONS YOU HAVE!** (Within reason and about the story or my process, etc., please!) Anonymous or not, I will try to answer all of them at the end of the epilogue.

I would also love to thank all of my kind reviewers, followers, and those who have supported this story from the beginning. You have no idea how your kind words about my work have gotten me to blow the dust off of this story and keep on writing until the end. It hasn't been an easy ride (this shit is LONG) and your positivity and support have meant the absolute world to me, even if I haven't gotten a chance to reply to your comments. I love you guys!

Here's to the end of a wonderful journey for me as a writer. Thank you all so much.


	25. Epilogue

**Epilogue**

The last day of the school year was upon the students of South Park High. It was bittersweet – yes, they'd _finally_ finished junior year and were soon to be seniors in the graduating class of 2018, but with every summer break came not seeing friends every day, families moving away, and relationships changing forever.

Small clumps of friends littered the parking lot, baking in the late June sun. People were last-minute signing yearbooks, taking selfies, and crying and hugging each other. At the back of the parking lot, near the lamppost that Butters had infamously crashed into the first day his parents let him drive to school, Wendy Testaburger, Bebe Stevens, Kyle Broflovski, and Kenny McCormick stood, watching the spectacle unfold in front of them with nostalgic smiles on their faces.

Kenny lit a cigarette and took a drag before offering it to Bebe. She grinned and seized it between her middle and index fingers.

"Why thank you, assistant manager," she teased, placing it between her lips and marking the white paper with her pale pink lipstick.

The blond rubbed the back of his neck, embarrassed. "I still can't believe he gave me that promotion."

Bebe passed the cigarette back to Kenny and Kyle rolled his eyes. "Seriously? You're not allowed to smoke on school property. You're going to get us all in trouble."

Wendy nudged him with his shoulder, a polite way of telling him that he was being a buzzkill. He took the hint and gave his friends an apologetic look.

"As if they'd bust their only two students doing something _smart_ this summer," Bebe sighed, smoothing back her frizzy hair with both hands and securing it with a velvet scrunchie. "Like, two weeks at Yale doing some pre-college program? What person in South Park has ever even _been_ to Yale?"

"I'd rather be in the Bahamas," Wendy sighed wistfully. "You're so lucky your parents booked you that cruise."

"They felt bad after the whole…Trent thing."

A moment of tension passed between the group. It was common knowledge around school that Bebe had just wrapped up her trial against Trent, landing him prison time and a hefty fine. They were relieved that he was once again behind bars and unable to harm anyone else, but they worried about their lives once he was free. Every night, Bebe was unable to stop herself from thinking about it in slow motion, shuffling through the events of the night like a photo album in her head.

"You'll keep in touch, right?" Kenny asked Bebe, surprisingly earnest.

Wendy gave Bebe a knowing look, trying to suppress her smile. Bebe gave her best friend a subtle wink.

"Of course."

She shuffled closer to Kenny, who threw a strong arm around her shoulders. Bebe beamed as he pressed his lips against the faint scar on her forehead.

Their display of affection gained the confused stares of half the parking lot. Bebe and Kenny weren't together by any means – in fact, they had yet to go on even a second date – but after their shared prom night and the Trent Boyett debacle, they had an air of comfort and familiarity with each other that made others think that they were.

Before Wendy could get a jab in about PDA, Stan suddenly approached, wringing a baseball cap between his hands.

"Hey."

Wendy and Kyle blanched at the sight of him, letting go of each other's hands, unable to meet Stan's eye. None of them had spoken since prom night.

"Can I talk to you?" He asked Wendy.

Bebe opened her mouth to speak, but Wendy answered before she could. "Yeah."

Wendy and Stan wandered over to his car, unable to ignore the entire student body gawking in their direction. He put his cap back on to hide his face. It took everything in him to make eye contact with Wendy, who was anxiously picking at her cuticles while her imagination ran wild with what Stan was about to say.

"Look…I haven't forgiven you yet. I'm just saying that first."

She nodded. "I didn't… _don't_ expect you to."

Stan licked his lips, trying to carefully word what he was about to say. "What I want to say is…well, I just hope we can still be friends. Not right now, but in the future. I don't want us to turn into a bad cliché of exes that hate each other."

Wendy was so relieved she almost cried. "Thank God. Stan, I would love to be friends with you."

He almost smiled.

"Do you think…" she began, staring at Kyle while Kenny ruffled his red hair, "You could ever be close with Kyle again?"

Stan didn't answer. Together, they watched Bebe playfully reprimand Kenny for giving Kyle a hard time. Wendy tried to picture Stan standing with them as their friend, everything in the past behind them. It was a pleasant thought.

Finally, he sighed. "Yeah. I think so. With time. It's going to take a lot of time."

Wendy reached forward and grabbed his hand, giving it a squeeze. "Thank you. I mean it."

Stan squeezed back and let go. "I've got to go, but I'll see you around."

"Of course."

Stan climbed into his truck and drove off out of the parking lot, leaving the high school and Wendy and Kyle far behind him. If anyone was going to need the summer to think things through and heal, it was Stan.

Wendy made her way back over to her friends and gave them the strongest smile she could muster. Bebe hugged her best friend. She knew just by looking at her that she needed it. Wendy gripped Bebe for dear life, feeling sudden emotion choking her throat, threatening to make her cry.

"Wendy," Kyle said, rubbing her back. "Are you okay?"

She nodded, sniffing and pulling herself together so she didn't have a breakdown in the parking lot on the last day of school.

"I'm fine. I swear. I'll be fine, I just need a minute." Quickly, she wiped underneath her eyes and flashed them a look of forced happiness.

Kyle frowned. "C'mon. Let's go sit in my car. We can talk about it."

Wendy and Kyle left Bebe and Kenny behind, waving goodbye as they climbed into the Broflovski SUV.

And then there were two. Kenny and Bebe leaned against the hood of her red Volkswagen, watching as the crowd began to thin and cars steadily left their spaces. They sat and watched in contemplative silence, the soft breeze throwing their hair back. Bebe turned to him.

"Did Lola tell you?" She asked, her chest tight.

He looked down at her, confused. "Tell me what?"

Bebe sank her teeth into her lip before she spoke. "About…me and Clyde."

"Oh. I mean, I knew you guys slept together, if that's what you're talking about."

The blonde decided that if she was going to have a relationship with Kenny that meant something, she would have to lay everything out on the table and be completely honest with him from then on out.

"He gave me the clap. I don't have it anymore, but I did. And part of the reason why I ended things with you was because _somehow_ Lola found out and was blackmailing me so she could go to prom with you."

Kenny's hand moved to his mouth and Bebe saw his eyes crinkle with a hidden smile.

"Why are you smiling?" She asked, tugging on his arm, revealing his smug grin.

He put up his hands in mock defense. "I'm sorry, but…when I told you Lola got drunk and spilled _everything,_ I meant it." He took a deep breath, trying not to laugh. "Lola was the one who gave the clap to Kevin. She got it from some guy at a party."

"Wait. You knew?"

He shrugged. "It's whatever. People get STDs. It's a part of life. No one's going to judge you for that. If they do, then they're shitty people anyway."

Bebe expected to feel embarrassed or ashamed, but she only felt angry at Lola for taking precious time away from her and making her feel like a stray cat backed into a dark alley. Before she could plan exactly how she was going to murder Lola and get away with it, her phone vibrated in her back pocket. Bebe sighed when she pulled it out.

"Ugh. My mom wants me home soon."

Kenny opened the car door for Bebe. "Why?"

She rolled her eyes. "She's turned into a helicopter parent after everything that happened at prom."

He thought it must have been nice to have a mom who cared so much.

Bebe plopped into her seat and started her car, feeling the swaths of cold air that washed over her skin from the AC. Kenny closed the door for her and leaned down into the open window.

"Hey."

Bebe giggled anxiously, wondering where this intense side of Kenny was coming from. He was awfully close to her face. "Hi?"

"Let's go on another date. Soon."

She felt blush flood her face and chest. "Oh. Okay. Yeah."

He smiled.

"Good."

Kenny walked away to his beat-up Chevy, resisting his urge to pump his fist in the air in victory.

* * *

In Kyle's car, Wendy had calmed down, and had a fistful of McDonald's drive-thru napkins soaked in tears in her sweaty palm. Kyle had his hands on the steering wheel, knuckles white, hating nothing more than seeing her upset.

"Are you going to be okay?" He asked gently, relinquishing his grasp on the wheel to brush a chunk of her ink-black hair behind her ear.

She sniffled and nodded. "Yeah. It's just weird and tough. I'm sorry for being so dramatic."

He sighed and rubbed her cheek with his thumb. "You're not being dramatic. At all."

She wiped her tears away one last time, shoving her clump of damp napkins into a cupholder. Pulling down the sun visor, she sank at the sight of her bloated, red face.

"Kyle?" She asked. "Are we ever going to just be…I don't know, _normal_?"

He tried to smile but it didn't work.

"Normal is stupid and subjective. Don't strive for normal, Wendy."

She turned to him from the passenger seat, meeting his green eyes. They stared at each other like that for a long time, taking in every feature of each other's faces, before Wendy finally broke into a smirk.

"You know what? You're right. Normal is stupid."

With that, they drove off into the afternoon sun, hopeful about what the summer would bring.

* * *

 **Question and Answer**

 ** _Q from nowthatsveryphucked: Where did Cartman go? I don't think I see him anywhere in this fanfiction, or even mentioned at all._**

 ** _A:_** Good question! In early drafts of this story, Cartman _was_ a main character. However, I struggled a LOT with writing his character and when writing those versions, I actually started to _hate_ trying to keep my fanfiction Cartman true to cartoon Cartman. Hating something about what you're writing is a sure way to never finish it! So, I decided to scrap him from the plot and replace what he did in earlier drafts with other characters' actions like those of Clyde, Red, Kenny, etc.

(Also, I do mention why Cartman isn't there in the author notes of Chapter Ten!) He was actually supposed to be featured in Chapter Ten as he came back from military school for the holidays, but even then, I couldn't figure out how to include him and it felt redundant at that point to introduce another character who would have absolutely no effect on the plot. However, he _MAY_ (serious MAYBE) included in the sequel if you missed him. Don't depend on it, though.

 ** _Q from Smarvin: What were your favorite and least favorite parts to write?_**

 ** _A:_** It's hard to pick! I think the scenes with Wendy and Bebe as BFFs were really fun. I also loved the fights between Bebe and her parents, which were pretty much word for word the kind of fights I had with mine at that age. Early on, writing Kyle and Wendy was fun, but as their relationship got more and more angsty I sort of dreaded those parts. My least favorite parts were probably scenes with Stan (although I loved writing his meltdown) and the filler parts. A lot of the stuff involving the musical was filler, a lot of the stuff at the Bijou was filler…I guess with a story this long there's bound to be a lot of that.

 ** _Q from Smarvin: What gave you the idea to do this fic in the first place?_**

 ** _A:_** Short answer, a lot of things. Long answer, I came up with this story when I was _really_ young and way more into SP than I am now. I love 'coming-of-age,' light-hearted and funny stories that still have substance to them and there aren't a lot of those for SP, probably because the show is a ridiculous comedy cartoon.

Someone close to me way back got chlamydia (not the same as gonorrhea, I know) and I was so shocked that at a high school age, kids could get STDs, which is something that I'd never even thought about. STDs seemed like something only prostitutes had to worry about. Fun fact, the original title of this fic was Muffin Tops & The Clap, because the STD used to take way more precedence. Then, a friend told me about how her nudes got leaked, revenge porn started coming up in the news…I've also dated my fair share of closeted gay men. Such is life.

This story actually originated from an idea I had when I was 12 or 13 about a party that all the kids threw one weekend. The plot was loosely similar in that Kyle and Wendy went behind Stan's back, and Kenny and Bebe were also a thing. As I got older, the plot expanded, and things ballooned. It took me a long time to figure out how I was going to end this. I actually didn't have the ending figured out until Chapter 4 or 5 was posted!

 ** _Q from Smarvin: What other South Park fanfics would you recommend?_**

 ** _A:_** If I'm being honest, I don't read much fanfiction. I really barely have time to write it! There are a few that I love that have sadly been deleted, but Nothing That I Wouldn't Try by scarlettshazam is an amazing Kenny/Bebe and Clyde/Craig story. Negative by rensrenegade is a really sad but beautifully written Kenny/Bebe oneshot. November 3rd, 2014, 11:45pm by Draikinator is a really cool, unique fic with an awesome twist ending.

 ** _Q from Smarvin: Any plans for more South Park writing beyond the sequel?_**

 ** _A:_** Unfortunately, no. This is a fandom I'm no longer involved in and don't keep up with any more. I will say that _maybe_ a few years down the line I'll come up with another idea for a fic, but at this point in time, I want to focus on other stories. I do have a lot of love for South Park still but don't really count it as one of my interests.

 ** _Q from Call Me Sami: What made you a Kyle/Wendy shipper?_**

 **_A:_** I just have always thought they would be cute together. Whenever Kyle has a crush on girls on the show it's always so sweet, and Wendy always seemed to be mothering Stan and too smart for him, so…same as anyone, I guess! They just make sense together.

 ** _Q from Call Me Sami: What gave you the idea to put Kenny and Bebe together?_**

 ** _Q from specialreview4u: Why did you choose Bebe to be with Kenny?_**

 ** _A:_** The boob thing. Honestly. Kenny's obsession with boobs and Bebe being the first girl to get boobs led me to think that they would one day have awkward teen crushes on each other. The more I got to building Bebe for this story, the more I realized how much I _loved_ her and Kenny together. I also have a weak spot for the popular, misunderstood cheerleader type and boy from the wrong side of the tracks trope, which is (hopefully) going to get touched on _way_ more in the sequel than it was in Muffin Tops.

* * *

Thank you guys so, so, so, MUCH for this wonderful opportunity to share my stupid little idea with you all. I hope you enjoyed it half as much as I did. I'll see you next time in the sequel, **_Tramp Stamp,_** coming sometime in 2019!


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